


Take the World

by Extinction



Series: Love and Other Shenanigans [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Mild Gore, Murder Family, Single Parent Hannibal, Single Parent Will, With A Twist, hints of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extinction/pseuds/Extinction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail Graham and Homer Lecter try their hand at matchmaking. </p><p>Because <em>obviously</em>, Will and Hannibal will get absolutely <em>nowhere</em> on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been moping since the season finale. So, I decided to write this because I think we all need some fluffy (eventual) murder family shenanigans.

x-x-x-x

There was something to be said about the small girl, quiet and alone, waiting outside of the school in the cold. Her solitary and still figure was small against the vastness of the outside and for a minute, she felt completely lost and defeated. The day was settling into dusk and the trees cast shadows across the streets. They nearly engulfed her and she felt tiny in comparison. She shivered and ignored the feeling, instead tugging at her cold ear as a distraction.

She was wrapped up in her blue jacket and she felt as if she could nearly vanish within the long scarf that she had been forced to wear earlier that morning. She stood, gloved fingers flexing as she tapped out a rhythm against her leg with a scowl on her face, her small glasses slowly slipping off of her nose. She tried to disregard their sliding but she eventually gave in and impatiently shoved them back up, her lips curling up into a resigned pout.

Wide and long-lashed blue eyes glared out from behind her glasses and she huffed, shifting the weight of her book bag on to her other arm.

Her dark hair had long ago escaped the messy ponytail her daddy had put her hair up in, as it was wont to do by the end of the school day. She couldn’t figure out yet if it was because she was constantly fidgeting with her hair or whether it was because her daddy was a terrible stylist.

She would go ahead and assume that it was probably both.

“Abby?”

The small girl turned around – the rustling of her coat loud in the cold silence- stiffly navigating herself to face the owner of the interrupting voice. She blinked up at her teacher – _“I much prefer Ms. Daniels, please_ ” – and her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. She could already tell by the stance of the woman that she was going to offer her apologies but Abigail didn’t need them.

Her daddy was on his way; she knew that for a fact.

So whatever apologies Ms. Daniels wanted to give her, she could simply eat them.

Her daddy was not always punctual and he had the tendency to forget about a lot of things, most especially how to take care of himself most of the time, but she knew that he always meant well and he would always be here, be it through rain or shine. He always looked her in the eyes – which for both of them always meant serious business – each morning and each night and solemnly promised that there was nothing in the world that could ever stop him from returning to her.

Besides, her daddy was out _saving lives_. Abigail could forgive him his tardiness; being a hero was much more important.

Plus, Abigail could brag about it to everyone else.

Or, she would, if her daddy hadn’t told her that bragging was “discourteous”.

Ms. Daniels remained by her side but didn’t speak again, concern growing on her face by the minute and Abigail twitched at the pity she clearly saw in her eyes. She opened her mouth from time to time but her words seem to stick to the roof of her mouth and instead, she ended up saying nothing.

Abigail was tempted to tell her to go away, no matter how rude it sounded but she refrained. Daddy had said that she should always mind her manners regardless of how idiotic people were.

Abigail turned away and relaxed when she heard the familiar sputtering of her daddy’s car. She quickly glanced up at Ms. Daniels and before she could stop her, with a smug grin and a loud goodbye, she ran to the curb as the car finally came to a halt in front of her.

She happily bounced on her toes as her daddy rushed out of the car. A scruffy and tired face greeted her and disheveled dark curls blew in the chilly wind as he hurriedly said all in one breath,” I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait so long, Jack held me up at the station.” The last bit was said with a tinge of annoyance but his face softened as he looked down at her, knowing warm blue eyes taking in the excited grin on her face behind his own pair of spectacles.

Large cold hands touched the frayed ends of her scarf and tied the loose ends, effectively making sure that she was safely bundled up once again.

“Did you catch more bad guys today, daddy?” Abigail breathed out in awe, not paying any attention to her dad’s tugging and pulling – she was more than used to being coddled and by now, she actually didn’t mind it much at all, although she vehemently denied that at every turn.

“Not today, no. But perhaps we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” he smiled down at her – at last satisfied with his readjustment - and held out his hand, eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Oh!” Abigail’s eyes widened and she took his hand, her small gloved hand nearly dwarfed within his. His hand squeezed hers lightly and with a playfully dramatic flair, he opened the car door,” After you, your majesty.”

Abigail giggled and lifted her chin, gracefully plopping herself down in her seat. She waited until her daddy got into the driver’s seat - both carefully buckled in and ready to go – and then started in on the usual retelling of her day.

Her daddy had missed so much and she had been impatiently waiting for him so she could finally tell him the thrilling news. She had felt as if she was nearly bursting at the seams with the force of keeping it in.

“Daddy, you’ll never guess what happened today,” she beamed up at him and he glanced down at her questioningly,” I made a new friend!”

“Oh, did you?” He smirked,” You’re not just lying to me again, are you?”

Abigail rolled her eyes and adjusted her glasses,” Of course not.”

She had tried that once before and it hadn’t really worked out as well as she had originally thought it would.

He hummed, intrigued,” May I ask what the name of this friend is, then?”

“You may,” she smiled cheekily.

This time, he was the one to roll his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as they turned out onto the main road,” What is the name of your friend?”

Abigail took pity on him, “Homer! Like, from the Simpson’s, remember? Except it’s not Homer Simpson. It’s –“she narrowed her eyes in thought as she tried to recall the last name of her new friend,” Lecter, I think.”

“Homer?” At Abigail’s nod, he snorted,” Certainly sounds like a distinguished young man.”

“Because of The Simpsons?” she scrunched her nose, blue eyes raised incredulously to look at her daddy’s profile.

“I doubt that’s what his parents named him after,” he chuckled,” but if you think that it might be, then who am I to argue.”

“You’re my daddy, that’s who.” Abigail nodded, the corners of her lips turned up, blue eyes twinkling.

“And wiser words have never been spoken,” he agreed. He didn’t turn to look at her again but Abigail noticed the faint twitching of his lips and she turned her face to the window, cheeks flushed as she tried to hide her own growing smile.

She watched the trees pass by in a blur and the excitement she had felt earlier had now been tamed into a calmness that usually came with being with her daddy.

She was no longer in a hurry to get everything out in the open just yet.

Abigail peeked at her daddy from out of the corner of her eye, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on the road, and she nodded to herself as she made up her mind, her hands clenched tightly on her lap.

For now, it could wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really surprised by the response I got from this, thank you all so much, it makes me so happy! :)

“Papa?” The small boy quietly set down his pencil and notebook. He was tired of having to look at the page full of additions and subtractions. He really couldn’t concentrate fully on it anyway and he didn’t really wish to either.

“Yes, Homer?” The man turned slightly to the side to face the boy, sanguine eyes taking in his nervous fidgeting.

Homer picked at his nails – a bad habit that he hadn’t been able to break just yet -even though he knew that his papa never really liked it when he did so. Short legs hung off of the chair, swinging back and forth as brown eyes shifted to the ground and back to his papa and then back to the ground again.

The boy cleared his throat; an act meant to reassure himself but instead only managed to make him more nervous.

“Is there something the matter, Homer?” he asked patiently.

“Um…what is,” Homer scrunched up his face, lips pursed in concentration,” ‘The Simpsons’?”

If it had been anyone else, they would not have noticed any change in his papa’s face. But Homer knew his papa better than anyone - he was always fervently studying his mannerisms so that Homer could become just like him when he grew up – and he caught the small annoyed twitch, almost unnoticeable.

“It is nothing of import,” he replied easily, turning back to his task of preparing their dinner. “May I ask the reason for this sudden inquiry?”

“Abigail told me that I should ask you,” he admitted, small red splotches coloring his cheeks. He reached up to tug on his blond hair but quickly remembered that his papa didn’t like him doing that either so instead he settled for clasping his hands firmly together and placing them in his lap.

His papa didn’t like him doing a number of things and it always made Homer pout. It wasn’t that his papa was a strict and unfair man; it was just that he always wished for him to behave and never tolerated insolence. This made it nearly impossible for Homer to ever throw any tantrums of his own and sometimes all Homer wanted was to unwind just like every other normal seven year old.

There was a saying in the Lecter household though: _“Rudeness is not tolerated.”_

He had been spoon fed this ideology and Homer couldn’t remember a time when these words did not exist. Of course, Homer couldn’t remember that far back anyway, but he knew, with a burning intensity, that these words have always been there, hanging around and waiting for him to pick them up. Instead of toy wood blocks, he had those words and with all of his blind devotion, he wanted to stack the words up and recreate them to make them his own, just like his papa.

Homer was nothing if not determined.

Many said that he appeared to have received that certain trait from his papa and Homer swelled with pride every time anyone so much as hinted that he resembled even a _little_ _bit_ of his papa.

“Abigail?”

The curiosity in his papa’s voice was obvious and Homer grinned, pleased that he now knew something that his papa didn’t.

“She’s my new friend!” Homer declared happily, eager to share his news.

This made his papa turn back around and this time, warm eyes looked back at him, a small smile lingering at the corners of his lips. Homer beamed at the reaction, jittery in his excitement. He was shaking in his seat and he wanted to launch himself at his papa but knew that it would probably get him a scolding.

“Is that so,” he teased,” and why was I not informed of this beforehand?”

“I forgot,” admitted Homer sheepishly.

He truly had forgotten and he was ashamed to even admit it. It should have been the very first thing that came out of his mouth after his papa picked him up from school earlier. In his anticipation, he had completely forgotten.

He was the new boy at school and nobody ever wanted to play with him; making friends had always been very hard for him to do. Ever since his papa had packed their things up and made them move to a different state for a better career opportunity, Homer had found it difficult to adjust despite his papa’s constant reassurances that things would get better.

But everyone at school always looked at him strangely, almost as if he were an alien from outer space. Homer had even begun to wonder whether he actually _did_ have green antennas sticking out from his head and he just hadn’t been aware of it before.

He knew that he was smaller than average for a boy his age and unfortunately this always seemed to attract older boys who wanted nothing more than to make his life miserable just for being different.

It also didn’t help that he was very shy.

Almost painstakingly so.

His papa had tried to break him out of his shyness but nothing he did ever worked and it was at that point that Homer had feared that his papa would hate him for not being more like him.

However, his papa didn’t seem to mind and simply had comforted him, letting him know that there was nothing wrong with being different.

Everyone had their advantages and it just so happened that being social was not one of the traits that he had inherited from his papa.

And that was completely fine because as much as he wanted to be _like_ his papa, Homer didn’t want to actually _be_ his papa.

But as much as his papa seemed to understand him, nobody else really did. And nobody else really bothered to attempt it either.

And then Abigail had appeared; shrewd big blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and a small face spotted with freckles which stood out against her pale skin. She had appeared in a time of great distress, when he had been cornered by the bullies in his classroom and he had curled up into a ball, hoping that they just went away on their own after unleashing their complete knowledge of insults upon him.

She had walked in on them as the boys continuously spouted their abuse and Homer had thought that she would have pretended to not have seen it and turn back around, just like everyone else usually did. Homer had actually _expected_ it and the sad truth was that he was actually used to it by now. He was used to having to pick up the pieces of his fragile heart and by now, he had taped it up together so many times that it had become unrecognizable, even to him.

But instead, Abigail had narrowed her eyes and had stomped up to the other boys, casually inserting herself in between Homer and them, arms crossed defiantly and head held high up proudly.

Homer couldn’t remember what happened after that; he had blocked out everything else and could only stared dumbfounded at the girl whom had readily defended him despite not knowing him.

In his mind, she shone bright like a beacon of hope and even though she was small, perhaps even smaller than him, she seemed to take up the space around her and her presence felt far larger than life.

She stood, defiant and mouthy, spitting out words like rapid fire, face flushed red from anger and exertion. After a while, Homer distinctly heard the sound of footsteps hurriedly moving away and then by the time that he had successfully snapped out of his daze, he realized that the other boys were gone and in their place still stood the tousled haired girl.

She had looked at him with unabashed curiosity,” Why don’t you ever stand up for yourself?”

Papa would’ve called her bluntness rude but personally, Homer thought it was endearing and he found himself awed by this small wisp of a girl who didn’t seem to have even a modicum of embarrassment.

Homer had been speechless then and the girl – “Abigail Graham, but don’t call me Abigail because only my daddy can do that”- had rolled her eyes and sighed, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders and only she was strong enough to carry it. “Fine, we’ll fix you right up so you won’t be so much of a wimp anymore.”

At the last minute, she added abruptly,” Daddy says that I have to be nicer. Am I being nice enough?” And then as if something else had occurred to her at that moment,” Hey, do you like dogs?”

A plate was suddenly placed in front of him and Homer grinned up at his papa, eyes bright in his recollection.

“And how did you meet this mysterious Abigail?” He took his seat in front of Homer, his own plate set in front of him, attentive eyes observing the happy flush on Homer’s face.

Homer stifled his smile, lips quirked up shyly and blond lashes lowered modestly as he tried to hide his mirth at the memory of Abigail.

“She helped me take out the trash during recess.” Homer shrugged innocently and picked up his fork with feigned nonchalance, neatly digging into his meal.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really can't thank you guys enough for the kudos/comments/bookmarks! <3

The sun shone bright and the blue of the sky was mesmerizing to watch as the clouds swept by, unidentified fluffy shapes constantly forming and changing.

“That one looks like Winston.” Abigail pointed out a particular disfigured shape. Homer squint his eyes, trying to make out what it could be. “What’s a Winston?”

“He’s our dog. Daddy and I found him on our way home before.” She tucked her hands under her head. “Daddy likes dogs _a lot_. We have seven.” Homer’s eyes bugged out, mouth falling open. “What? Don’t _you_ have any pets?” She asked defensively.

“No…papa doesn’t like them.” Homer flicked at a blade of grass, finger smoothing over the sharp edges.

Abigail made a face, her nose scrunched up as she yawned dramatically. “Boring, that’s no fun.”

Homer hummed his agreement, shoulders slumping forward. “I know.”

A hand rested on his arm and Homer looked up. Abigail looked pensive, eyes wide and distant. “Maybe a pet rock?” She supplied hesitantly.

He snorted,” Papa would say that it made too much noise.” Abigail giggled, falling back onto the ground. She spread out, splayed like a starfish, and moved her arms and legs. “Grass angels!” She pulled Homer down with her when he didn’t immediately join in.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the cool sensation of the grass sliding against their skin until it became pleasantly itchy. Abigail was unusually quiet and Homer didn’t pry, knowing that she was probably deep in thought. For now, he savored the feeling of companionship that he had never had the chance to experience before.

The muffled sounds of distant yelling and laughter was comforting and Homer found his eyes falling shut. Perhaps he could take a short nap; he was sure that Abigail would wake him up when they needed to leave again.

“What about your mom?” Abigail suddenly whispered, hushed as if she was speaking of something sacred and didn't wish to lessen the value of it by being inappropriately loud. Homer paused, slowly opening his eyes and he held out his hands in front of him to prevent himself from picking at his nails again.

“Papa told me that she went away.” He shrugged. For as long as he had been alive, his papa had been all that he had known. There had never been anyone else in their lives; his papa didn’t even date anyone else, he made sure that Homer always received his full attention and although it was nice to be his papa’s world – because his papa was _his_ world too – it still felt somewhat desolate with only just the both of them providing each other company.

Once upon a time, he had been saddened by the missing component in their family. He had truly believed that perhaps his mama had been taken away and just wasn’t able to communicate with them. It was the only reason he could think of for why she never bothered to reappear in their lives. He was a good boy, always on his very best behavior; there was no way that his mama would willingly leave him behind, not when he tried his best to be the most perfect son he could be.

He had shared this theory with his papa before but he had just dismissed it, asking him to never speak of her again. So Homer never brought her up after that, although he still wondered from time to time whether she was still out there somewhere, feeling just as lost as he often did.

“Hm. Daddy says that mommy is in heaven.” Abigail turned her head away, her eyes trailing after a nearby bird. “I don’t remember her though…but daddy said that she was beautiful,” she commented wistfully, absentmindedly pushing up her glasses. “I bet your mommy was beautiful too.”

Homer shrugged again noncommittally.

“Daddy doesn’t talk about her anymore but I can tell that he’s lonely sometimes.” Abigail took off her glasses and wiped at her suddenly teary eyes, glaring at Homer as if daring him to say anything else about her reaction.

Homer was smart enough to know when to not point out the obvious.

“Papa looks lonely too…” And it was true, his papa never discussed his personal feelings on the matter but Homer could easily tell that it was hard for him to find someone else who could relate to him. Homer could only achieve so much but he couldn’t always be there for his papa, not in the way that he needed anyway. “Papa doesn’t have many friends either.” Which was also ironic, seeing as Homer was the most introverted out of the two.

Sure, his papa had dinner parties and he always invited many guests but none of them were ever true _friends_. Homer was young and he didn’t understand much just yet but he could at least tell the difference between a real friend and someone who only came by on special occasions.

Not that he could blame them; his papa made the best food in the world.  

“Yeah.” Abigail frowned down at the ground, swirling a circle into the dirt. “My daddy is always working; he’s too busy.” But even then Abigail knew that it was mostly used as an excuse to keep other people away. Abigail had her auntie Katz and her auntie Alana and they were daddy’s friends too but they didn’t count because they felt more like family and her daddy never went out of his way to join them anyway. They usually had to resort to dragging him outside, although he usually relented reluctantly.

She knew that her daddy had a hard time talking to people on his own and Abigail just couldn’t understand why he didn’t have more friends. Her daddy was great and anyone would be lucky to have him. He was strong and funny and brave and Abigail absolutely adored him despite the many scoldings she often got. Her daddy was the best; surely there was _someone_ out there who could see that too.

Suddenly, she stopped, tilting her head to the side in thought. She turned to look at Homer, whom was practically falling asleep already. As if feeling her eyes upon him, Homer opened his own, peering at her curiously.

“Your papa doesn’t have friends…” she started. Homer nodded in agreement, curious as to where Abigail where was going with the conversation. “And my daddy doesn’t have any friends either.” She grinned widely, eyes twinkling mischievously. “So why don’t _they_ become each other’s friend instead?”

It took Homer a while for it to fully settle in but when it finally did, he couldn’t help the smile that threatened to take over the entirety of his face. His own eyes glinted in excitement and he almost tackled Abigail into the ground when he hugged her tightly.

“I think it’s better if we do it now, that way, they won’t be lonely for long!” Abigail declared in between bouts of laughter, overjoyed by his reaction. “And then, we can spend more time together that way too.”

Homer nodded eagerly, his hair flopping into his face as he started thinking of all the possibilities. Maybe then his papa wouldn’t feel so alone. Maybe then he will finally have someone he could share his secrets and desires with, just like Homer did with Abigail.

However, he abruptly stopped, his mouth pursed into a pout as he realized that there was still a problem to solve.

“But…how will we even get them in the same room?” It wasn’t as if his papa and Abigail’s daddy knew each other, and they were both busy men, there was no way they could keep them together for long. Either one or the other would run off; they needed to be put in a position where it wouldn’t be so easy to leave.

Abigail groaned and turned onto her stomach, her white shirt becoming dirty with grass and dirt stains. She briefly remembered that her daddy had warned her about not getting her clothes dirty again but she ignored it; there were more important things to think about. Daddy’s laundry worries could wait for a later time.

She rested her chin on her hands, mouth twisting and eyes narrowed. Homer observed her nervously, fearing that their plan had been ruined before they could even put it into effect. Though, he then felt a little flutter of hope when her face immediately brightened.

“I have an idea.”

x-x-x-x

“Are you sure that this is such a good idea, Abby?” Homer shuffled his feet, wiping his sweaty palms off on his shirt. When Abigail had said that she had a plan, he hadn’t been aware that it had been _this_.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” She calmly dismissed his worries as she prepared herself. “Besides,” she raked her brain for her daddy’s favorite saying,” this way, we kill two birds with one stone.”

x-x-x-x

When Will had first gotten the call, his heart had stopped and he felt cold. It wasn’t often that he got calls from Abigail’s school – although that had been changing as of late due to her misbehavior – and he knew that most times it was probably nothing serious.

But he couldn’t help being irrational when it came to Abigail.

For all her bravado, she was kindhearted and exceptionally understanding. He was always afraid that someone would realize just how truly special she was and take advantage of her capabilities.

He would do anything to prevent that from ever happening.

Will quietly excused himself to accept the call, ignoring Jack’s glower, and stepped out.

 _“Mr. Graham?”_ The voice that spoke was soft and Will easily detected a small trace of remorse.

He cleared his throat, gripping the phone tightly. “Yes?”

_“Hi, this is Ms. Daniels, I’m Abigail’s teacher. I’m afraid that I am going to have to ask that you please come to the school as soon as you are able to.”_

“Is Abigail fine?” He quickly made his way out of the station, already slipping his hand into his pocket to reach for his car keys. He wished the woman would be more specific; she truly wasn’t being helpful in any way.  Will felt as if his heart was going to jump out of his chest and he fumbled clumsily as he got into the car.

_“Oh, yes, she’s fine. We just had a small…altercation. It will be better if I can explain it in person.”_

Will let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. He relaxed slightly, leaning back against the seat. The confirmation that Abigail had not been hurt was a great relief and he felt as if he could breathe more easily now.

However, that still left other possibilities, none of which he believed would be good either.

Knowing Abigail, it definitely meant trouble.

“I’ll be right there.”

x-x-x-x

When he finally arrived, he was out of breath and he knew that his face would be flushed from exertion. He had broken a number of laws along the way; he was incredibly lucky that he hadn’t been pulled over.

The halls were empty and quiet and he realized that everyone else had probably already left. With some difficulty – he didn’t usually step foot in the school unless it was for Open House night – he located Abigail’s classroom.

He stopped himself before knocking, running his fingers through his tangled curls, trying to tame them into submission. He straightened his clothing, making an attempt to at least look as presentable as he possibly could.

He took a deep breath and then opened the door, uncertain as to what he would find behind it.

What he hadn’t expected was for there to be other people other than Abigail and Ms. Daniels there. There was a man seated at one of the small desks and he should’ve looked ridiculous but instead still managed to pull it off gracefully. For a minute, Will thought he had entered the wrong classroom and was just about to turn back around but then he caught sight of a familiar figure who was currently trying – unsuccessfully, he felt the need to add - to hide behind her desk.

His eyes quickly swept over her as he made his way towards her. Will felt a rush of relief at finding that she was indeed unharmed and looked the same as she did when he had dropped her off earlier that morning if but a bit dirtier than usual.

“Mr. Graham?” The voice sounded familiar and Will turned towards it, staring impassively at the fresh faced teacher who looked slightly embarrassed. She gestured towards the man Will had dismissed earlier. “This is Doctor Lecter.” And then towards a much smaller figure beside him; the boy looked like a smaller version of the man and Will assumed that it was probably his son. “This is Doctor Lecter’s son, Homer.”

The name sounded familiar but he still didn’t understand why Lecter and his son were joining them. He had been under the impression that Abigail had been the sole perpetrator.  However, the boy looked surprisingly guilty as well and Will was starting to wonder whether Abigail had managed to gain a partner in crime.

Will suppressed his shudder at the thought.

He felt a small hand slip into his and Will looked down at Abigail, narrowing his eyes at the innocent look she gave him. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes flitting over to the other man who had not spoken a single word throughout the exchange. Will felt unnerved by the attention and he glared at the man, only receiving a raised eyebrow in return.

“What has my daughter done this time?” He sighed, weary in a way that only a parent would be able to understand. Judging by the resigned look he got from Doctor Lecter, it was safe to say that he also understood.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, Abigail then threw Homer a quick wink and Homer covered his mouth with his hand to hide his emerging smile.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I've been informed that not a lot of people received the e-mail update for this story and I really don't know why or whether this will be a temporary/permanent thing. (I had accidentally uploaded an unedited chapter today and quickly deleted it thereafter - according to a friend, they didn't receive that update either - so not quite sure whether I fucked it up.)
> 
> So, if you're interested in following my updating schedule, you can follow me on tumblr; in between blogging random/fandom stuff, I usually post personal little notes while I'm writing a chapter (it can pertain to how difficult it is or random anon questions that ask when I'm updating, etc). So, yeah. 
> 
> [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

The silence in the room was frighteningly loud.

The longer the silence continued on, the more uncomfortable it actually became. No one was saying anything and eyes were roaming around everywhere; Will’s eyes kept wandering towards the door, Abigail appeared more indecisive, not sure whether to settle on him or on Homer’s father.

Homer’s own eyes kept flitting between the two men as well, who were happily ignoring each other and pretending that the other didn’t exist - although Homer caught the curious glances that his papa kept giving Abigail’s daddy. Ms. Daniel’s eyes were on the ceiling, as if it held all the answers to all of her questions. She had her palms pressed together under her chin and she appeared to be praying for strength.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “I apologize for calling both of you in. I realize that you both are quite busy but after today, I felt that certain exceptions could be made.” She sighed, eyes now downcast. “The reason for why I called both of you today was because we had an incident,” her lips thinned as she looked pointedly at Homer and Abigail,” with another student.”

Will straightened up, eyebrows furrowed. He looked at Abigail, seeking more information from her, but she had her head turned away, gaze fixed on the wall.

“Another student?” inquired Doctor Lecter. It was the first time that Will had heard him speak since he had stepped into the room. His voice was deep and accented, cultured with precise enunciation and Will could already tell that this man was the kind of person he usually avoided.

Ms. Daniel’s cleared her throat again, licking her lips nervously. “Yes. It appears that a boy from another class has been bullying Homer.” Doctor Lecter stiffened, his eyes hardening. Ms. Daniel’s hurried to explain further. “We were not aware of this before and I’m so sorry that we were not able to catch this sooner.” She truly looked remorseful and ashamed by her inability but it was not enough to appease him.

Will caught Abigail’s faint muttering and he turned towards her again. This time, she returned his gaze with a bashful smile. “What?”

“What, indeed.” Will mumbled to himself, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He was far too exhausted to deal with more of Abigail’s tricks than what was necessary.

“Papa, it’s ok. Abigail helped me.” Homer reassured him, hoping to ease the tension. He didn’t mention that Abigail had helped set it up. He doubted his papa would like that that part much at all.

“Yes well…it appears that Abigail took matters into her own hands and –“

“Wait, she took matters into _her own hands_?” Will swung around to face Abigail who now looked wary.

“Daddy, he was going to hurt Homer!” She didn’t mention that she had provoked the boy into making the first move. With a few choice words, he had been rearing to go although he had been far too eager and that had ended up being his downfall. Perhaps Abigail _should_ have mentioned to the boy that she took karate lessons.

But then again, perhaps not.

“Abigail…” He was aware that everybody was now looking at him but he believed that he had a right to question his own daughter. Abigail didn’t answer, instead choosing to look resolutely down at her desk. Her shoulders were slumped forward sadly and he sighed in defeat, stepping in closer to her and taking her hand into his own. “It’s OK. You had your reasons for why you did…whatever it is that you did. I’m not mad at you.”

Although he really should’ve been but Will couldn’t find it within himself to scold her.

Abigail tended to be a free spirit but Will knew he had at least raised her well, despite his own faults. She had strong opinions and she didn’t keep quiet about them which usually resulted in many disagreements. However, Will knew that most of her decisions were based upon the belief that she was acting as she should and out of fairness according to the current situation. Will expected nothing less from her. She insisted on being a warrior all on her own – “Daddy, princesses are girly and they have to get rescued a lot so I don’t want to be a princess” - and Will grudgingly felt proud of her for it.

Ms. Daniel’s cleared her throat again, more insistently now and Will’s eye twitched at the sound.

“She broke the boy’s nose.” Ms. Daniels looked slightly bewildered by this, unsure of how to really react in such a situation. It was very difficult to believe, after all, Abigail was small and she had somehow managed to go up against someone nearly twice her height.

Abigail snorted and Homer giggled, although he quickly stopped when his papa looked at him.

“I see.” This wasn’t the first time someone had ended up with an injury due to Abigail’s interference. Will almost regretted letting Beverly convince him into allowing Abigail take karate lessons. She had quickly moved up to a black belt and there were times where Abigail unleashed her fury just “out of curiosity”.

“Then surely, Ms. Graham did nothing wrong. She had been placed in a position where she felt the need to act and defend a friend.” Hannibal inclined his head towards Abigail. “I offer you my gratitude Ms. Graham. Thank you for protecting my son.”

Abigail blushed. “You- you’re welcome.” Homer  beamed up at his papa, proud and relieved that his papa hadn’t gotten too angry.

 Will took his glasses off with a soft weary sigh. “What’s her punishment?” It was best to get it out of the way. He just really wanted to leave and preferably never come back. Doctor Lecter was eccentric and seemed pretentious and his son was now following in the steps of Abigail.

Hopefully, it was just Homer. Will wasn’t sure what he’d do if she created a cult. Although Will had no doubts that she was charismatic and persuasive enough to actually do it if she wanted to.

“I have discussed this thoroughly with the other teachers and we have decided that she will not be suspended as we can’t exactly prove who the instigator was.” Will had a strong suspicion that it was Abigail but said nothing. “However, she _will_ be needing to stay after school for half an hour over the next week. I’m sure we can find tasks for her to occupy her time with.”

Abigail opened her mouth, ready to protest but Will glared at her. She hurriedly shut her mouth, crossing her arms with an angry huff.

“Thank you, Ms. Daniels.” They had gotten lucky so far but if Abigail tried negotiating on her own, the punishment was subject to change. It was best to accept it – especially because the consequences hadn’t been as bad as he had originally assumed – and move on.

“This is her last warning,” Ms. Daniels said to him and then reluctantly turned to Abigail. “Please keep yourself out of trouble,” she pleaded with her. Abigail widened her eyes and nodded, giving her teacher a grateful smile. She hadn’t outright promised, so she couldn’t be held responsible for any future incidents. Besides, she had only gotten caught because she had _wanted_ to get caught.

“I expect you to have better control over your students.” Doctor Lecter stood up from his seat, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from his suit. “For this to have reached this extent and for you to not have had any idea of what you allow to happen under your watchful eyes can be considered quite rude, Ms. Daniels.”

The teacher blanched at his tone. “I assure you that we will be more careful in the future, Doctor Lecter. There is nothing more important to us than the safety of the children.”

“See to it that you do. Ms. Graham should not have to resort to violence to defend herself or anyone else.” The warning was clear; if anything similar occurred, then the consequences would not be pleasant. Ms. Daniels’s responding smile was stiff and she quickly excused herself with a few terse words.

Will stared blankly at the Doctor, unimpressed.

He then approached Homer cautiously and the boy stared up at him in awe. The intensity of his focus slightly unnerved him – it was probably the eyes; they held a strange and subtle red tinge to them – but he knelt down to his height nonetheless

“I’m sorry that this happened and although I don’t agree with the actions that Abigail took, I’m also glad that she took them,” he muttered quietly to the boy, giving him a small smile. He wasn’t entirely happy that Abigail immediately resorted to violence but Will did have his own experiences with bullies and he knew that sometimes, it was the only course of action to take against malicious children.

Homer didn’t strike him as the type of boy who would readily defend himself and with a pang of sadness, Will comprehended that he reminded him of himself when he was younger.

He didn’t have his own Abigail back then but perhaps…she will suit him better now. Will had the feeling that Abigail would gladly protect this boy at all costs.

When she became attached, there was simply no way to tear her away; Will just knew that he would be seeing Homer Lecter a lot more often.

He stood back up and gave Homer’s shoulder a light squeeze. When he lifted his head, he realized that he was being watched by another pair of eerie sanguine eyes and Will readily met the gaze, eyebrow raised.

Doctor Lecter held out his hand. “Thank you.” Will stared at the hand with a bemused expression and Abigail nudged him with a sharp elbow. “Daddy, shake his hand,” she hissed impatiently. Will hesitantly took the offered hand and then quickly let go, avoiding the eyes that were still quietly observing him.

“I understand that this is not cause for a celebration but I am protective of my son and I am truly grateful for your daughter’s actions.” Will nodded, showing that he was listening and fiddled with his glasses. “I would like to repay you both by inviting you to our house for dinner.”

Homer exchanged grins with Abigail.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea…” Will started, scratching at his chin. Abigail tugged on his hand and Will held still, refusing to be intimidated by her. “Daddy, please!” She threw her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his stomach, looking up at him with a dramatic pout. Doctor Lecter’s eyes strayed to her for a brief moment but then returned to Will, amusement lurking in his eyes.

“I will not take no for an answer, Mr. Graham.”

Will felt the blush creeping up behind his neck and he placed his hand on Abigail’s head, giving her a gentle pat. “Fine, if you insist.” The last thing he wanted was to do was go to this man’s house with Abigail in tow but Will could tell that this was a man that had no problem with being persistent. Perhaps he could get out of it at the last minute.

Abigail squealed, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you, daddy! Thank you Mr. Lecter!” She let go and ran off after Homer who had been watching the scene with tentative excitement. Homer laughed when Abigail wrapped her arms around him too and Will found that he couldn’t hold back his own smile.

For all the trouble it had gotten him so far, he was happy that Abigail had finally managed to befriend someone. Her personality was too brash and she was too blunt in regards to what she didn’t like and so Will had been worried that she wouldn’t be able to form new connections with other people.

For a while, it seemed that he had been right; Abigail just couldn’t seem to keep the friends she made.  She had hid it well but Abigail couldn’t hide anything from him and he had just _known_.

Hopefully, Homer would provide her company when Will wasn’t able to. And then perhaps, she will also provide the lonely boy comfort in return.

He looked away and called Abigail over, giving Doctor Lecter a polite nod as he walked past him towards the door. When Abigail caught up with him, she took his hand and waved goodbye in the Lecters' general vicinity and skipped away, trying to keep pace with her daddy.

No words were said until they were both in the car and it was then that Will finally asked the question that had been itching at him since the very beginning.

“Was it worth it?” He wondered whether Abigail had done irreparable damage to the unnamed boy’s face. He found that he didn’t mind the thought so much, not if the boy had been willing to hurt her. When it came down to it, he preferred his daughter’s safety to anyone else’s.

Abigail’s smile was wide and her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. _“Oh yes.”_

She didn’t specify and Will didn’t ask.

x-x-x-x

“Papa…I told you that Abigail was nice,” Homer praised, following after him. “And so is her daddy; I like him.”

Hannibal hummed appreciatively; he recalled the man’s defensive behavior and prickly attitude. He hid behind his glasses and was uncomfortable with unfamiliar contact. He appeared to dislike him upon first sight although Hannibal could only make vague assumptions as to why.

However, he also recalled the way that the man’s guarded expression had easily disappeared when he had talked to Homer. He recalled the way that his eyes crinkled at the corners and how his blue eyes became soft and warm with genuine affection.

He recalled the way that he practically melted in his daughter’s presence and despite how uncaring he seemed, he denied his daughter nothing.

“Yes, he is very interesting,” Hannibal agreed absentmindedly, already mentally sorting through the possible recipes he could use for their upcoming dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that these chapters are getting slightly longer...someone please stop me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys were serious about not having a problem with longer chapters because oops...

Abigail huffed as she impatiently tapped her foot against the wooden floor. Small fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress, face scrunching up in disgust as she stared down at the flats she had been forced into. She wiggled her toes, pouting when she realized that they were tight enough to restrict any further movement.

“Daddy!” She crossed her arms, legs spread apart defiantly and feet firmly on the ground. “Why do I have to wear,” she poked the frilly monstrosity with revulsion,” _this_.”

“Abigail, please, close your legs.” He fiddled with a tie, the same look of disgust on his face as he reluctantly smoothed out any wrinkles on his clothes. “And you have to wear it, because as it was _your_ idea, we’re having dinner with the Lecters. We need to look…presentable.” He looked unsure, as if he still didn’t really understand why there was a need for this or that anyway.

“But I didn’t know that I’d be forced to wear a dress!” And an ugly one at that; her daddy was as bad as fashion as he was with doing her hair.

“You don’t like it?” He turned to her, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “But it looks lovely on you.” He looked disappointed and Abigail instantly felt guilty.

“I guess it’s not that bad…” she admitted begrudgingly. It truly was _that_ bad but she didn’t want to see that expression on her daddy’s face again and agreeing with him was a sure way of preventing that from happening.

But still…

She tugged at one of the ruffles, cautious, as if it were going to bite her.

Knowing that the longer she looked at it, the more horrified she’d be, she looked at her daddy instead. With wide eyes, she pursed her lips, unsuccessfully trying to whistle. All she could manage was a raspberry and she grinned when her daddy turned around once again, eyes narrowed.  

“You look nice.” And it was true; he didn’t often dress up, but when he did, he looked handsome. After searching through his closet – and with a little help from Abigail because her daddy was a lost cause when it came to putting together a decent outfit – he had finally settled for a buttoned up shirt, a pair of fitted trousers – which were probably once a gift from Beverly, judging by how tight they were – and a tie he hadn’t even been aware he owned.

 “You don’t think it’s too much?” Abigail pretended to study him harder, blue eyes turned into slits behind her glasses. Finally, she shook her head, her hair flying around her face. “Nope.” She thought back to Auntie Katz. “You look...” her mouth twisted,” _smokin’.”_

He groaned. “Please, never say that again. You have to stop repeating everything Beverly says.”

Abigail shrugged. It wasn’t her fault that Auntie Katz said the most interesting things.

“Alright.” Her daddy patted down his sides, making sure that he had everything. Abigail repeated the action; although she didn’t have anything important enough to take with her, much less any pockets to put them into.

His eyes turned to her, looking her over. Abigail tried her best to stay still to show that even though it had been tempting, she hadn’t dirtied her clothes.

Not yet, anyway.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get this over with.” Abigail bounced on her toes, following after her daddy. She stopped along the way to kiss each canine member of their family goodbye, warm tongues giving her kisses in return.

She looked at them with a mischievous smile. “When I come back, let’s destroy this dress.” They wagged their tails back at her, unable to really understand, but affected by her enthusiasm.

“Abigail!”

She checked behind her, slumping over in relief when she noticed that he was already outside and hadn’t heard her earlier promise. “Coming!” She gave them one last conspiratorial wink and ran off, heart light and a gentle happiness blooming in her chest.

x-x-x-x

Will allowed Abigail to lead him towards the intimidating house. Eyes flickered nervously, trying to take in the sheer size of it. It was much bigger than their own home and if the inside looked anything like the outside, than it was no doubt better furnished than their house.

“You know what; I think I left the stove on. We should go back, wouldn’t want the house to burn down.” He had – unsuccessfully - tried to get out of this dinner days ago but his every attempt had been thwarted by Abigail. It was as if she had been expecting it and she was readily prepared for each of his excuses. Will would’ve been impressed if he wasn’t already sulking.

“Nice try, daddy. You don’t cook.” She scoffed, offended by his latest excuse.

Will clenched his jaw. “We have fish Fridays.” Granted, they usually cooked them outside but it was still cooking nonetheless.

“Daddy.” She stopped in her tracks, turning back to him and giving him an unimpressed look. Will fidgeted under her blank stare and sighed, giving in.

“Fine.” She nodded approvingly at him, tugging at his hand once more. When they finally reached the door, she hurriedly let go of him and rang the doorbell. Will then noticed that she started wiping her hands on her dress and he gave her a pointed glare. He absolutely refused to let her get it filthy so soon again. She had the tendency to touch anything and everything, no matter how much he tried to stop her. God only knew what she had touched on their way here.

The door suddenly flew open and Will found himself blinking down at the small figure of Homer Lecter. He had been dressed up accordingly for the occasion and Will couldn’t help his smile at how grown-up the boy was trying to appear. He had even worn his own little tie and he was unconsciously fingering the end of it.

“Abby!” Abigail had quickly enveloped the boy into a hug and Will looked on, amused by the scene. After he had escaped her clutches, Homer glanced up at him shyly. “Hello, Mr. Graham.”

“Hello, Homer.” He gave the boy a small smile. He flinched back when a much bigger figure appeared behind Homer.

“Homer, I believe I have told you to not answer the door on your own.” Doctor Lecter warned.

“Sorry, papa,” he mumbled.

The Doctor nodded, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. He then looked up, his lips stretching into a polite smile. “Welcome to our home, Mr. Graham,” he held his hand out and this time, without Abigail’s interference, he shook it. He inclined his head to Abigail, bending down to take her hand in his and giving the back of it a playful kiss,” Ms. Graham.” She giggled, face flushed. Will rolled his eyes .

Doctor Lecter opened the door wider for them and Will shuffled in reluctantly, Abigail once again having grabbed onto his hand to lead him in, just in case he decided to run off.

They stood uncertainly in the entryway until they were led to a living room.

Or, that was what Will believed it was, anyway.

It resembled more of a museum and he became nervous, afraid that he’d bump into something. Everything looked too expensive and Will was certain that if he broke something, he wouldn’t have enough money to replace it.

Abigail on the other hand, looked awed by her surroundings. Will tightened his grip on her hand, hesitant to allow her to roam free. If he broke one thing, he was sure that Abigail would break five more and they would soon be in debt to the Lecters.

“This is...nice.” Will complimented insincerely. It _was_ nice. For a pretentious Doctor, that is. He decided not to voice this aloud.

The man simply smiled in response, not noticing – or maybe not even caring for – his insincerity.

“Dinner is almost ready.” It wasn’t until now that he noticed that the Doctor was wearing an apron and somehow, he managed to pull it off well. Will was envious.

“You’re cooking?” He was slightly impressed. But then again, he was impressed by _anyone_ who could cook. He was lacking terribly in the culinary department.

“Yes. It is a passion of mine.” The man seemed proud of this. Will’s nose alerted him that he _should_ be proud. Whatever it was that he was cooking, smelled divine. He hadn’t smelt anything like it in what seemed like a long time.

It was even longer still since he had had a properly home cooked meal. Thinking of the last time when that had happened only saddened him and Will forced himself to push the thoughts away, instead focusing on the man standing in front of him.

“It smells really good, Mr. Lecter!” Abigail was more direct about her thoughts.

“Thank you, Ms. Graham.”

“Don’t call me Ms. Graham.” She made a face, displeased by how mature it made her sound. “It’s _Abigail_ ,” she emphasized slowly, making sure that he understood.

“I see; my apologies then, Abigail.” His tone was solemn although his eyes were amused as he looked down at her.

Will chuckled as he let go of Abigail’s hand, allowing her to join Homer who had been watching them raptly. He looked after them anxiously as they both disappeared further into the house.

He hoped, for both his sake and hers, that she was at least careful. He loathed thinking of what trouble she could get up to; it was always a worry of his, no matter how unfounded it was. Hopefully Homer would keep an eye on her.

When he turned back around to Doctor Lecter, he was watching him attentively. Will wanted to tell the man that it was rude to stare so much and if he wanted, he could take a picture to make it last longer.

He said none of this. Abigail had promised that she would be on her very best behavior but only _if_ he did as well.

Will cleared his throat, deliberately ignoring the man’s intense stare. “So, is there anything I can do to help?” He hoped the man would answer in the negative. He didn’t want him tempting the fates; he had the feeling that his dinnerware would be just as expensive as anything else in the house.

“You may help in setting the table. If you don’t mind, that is.” It sounded like a challenge and Will grit his teeth. He bared them into a smile. “Not a problem.”

He had set tables before; they were all the same and it required no special level of expertise. He was sure that it couldn’t be that difficult.

x-x-x-x

Homer tilted his head to the side at the crashing sound of dishes hitting the floor. It was distant but it was also unmistakable. Abigail looked up and immediately dismissed it. “That’s probably my daddy.” She went back to poking his teddy bear.

He considered this and then shrugged. He was sure that his papa wouldn’t be too mad with Abigail’s daddy. After all, he had been just as excited as Homer was.

Of course he would never admit to it but Homer could tell; his papa had pulled out his best recipes and he had stayed in the kitchen for _hours_. It seemed that his papa was just as eager to impress Abigail’s daddy and Homer smiled to himself, pleased with the unexpected outcome.

He had expected for his papa to have put up more of a fight – he was very polite and friendly but never actually warm and inviting- and to see that his papa had so much interest invested in Abigail’s daddy was like a dream come true. Homer liked the man; he was actually nice to him and he seemed to understand him.

“The plan is working better than I had thought.” Abigail tapped her finger against her lip. “I think your papa likes my daddy.”

Homer agreed. He had never seen his papa quite like this before; it was a side of him that he had no experience with. Maybe his papa was so desperate for company that he was willing to accept Mr. Graham.

But rethinking this, he knew that it couldn’t simply be that. Homer took after his papa in that, if he didn’t want to do something, it was difficult to make him do it at all. So if Mr. Graham was here, it was because his papa _wanted_ him here.

“Do you think they could get married?” Abigail gasped at the prospect. Her eyes glazed over and Homer could practically see it playing out in her head. She mumbled quietly to herself and Homer leaned in, straining to hear. Suddenly, she started giggling and she fell over. Homer looked at her, puzzled by her reaction.

“But…but,” she doubled over once more, hands on her stomach,” daddy…in a dress.” Homer blushed as the image popped up, unbidden, into his mind. He had never actually seen a bride before –other than in movies - but all he could imagine was Abigail’s daddy in a dress, just like a princess. He covered his mouth with both of his hands, stifling his own giggles.

Abigail’s face was quickly becoming red and Homer leapt in, shushing her even though it was hard to do when he himself was finding it difficult to stop laughing. Tears were streaming down her face and she looked up at Homer, now howling.

Both of them made several failed attempts to stop and after a few minutes, with a sore belly and an aching chest, their laughter had been reduced to snorts and beaming smiles.

“He would look pretty.” Abigail nodded in agreement. “It’s what he deserves, for putting me into _this_ dress.”

Homer knew that despite how jokingly they were handling it, it was actually something he had never considered. His papa never dated anyone and although it was somewhat of a relief – it was always a fear of his that if his papa ever remarried, that he would no longer be his whole world – it was also a lonely existence.

He longed for the warm arms of another, someone who would happily look after him without passing any judgment on him. Before, it used to be the soft arms of a woman that he imagined; the soft feminine perfume and a gentle voice that would lull him to sleep every night.

Now, with Abigail’s unintended words, he found it easy to imagine Mr. Graham instead. His arms were stronger than those of a woman but they were solid and reassuring. He had seen how well he handled Abigail; with a loving tenderness that he found himself yearning for.

It wasn’t that his papa was unloving…it was just that he wasn’t one to openly display his emotions in public. Homer understood that; he had accepted it long ago and he had no problem with it, he loved his papa regardless. However, now that the thought was in his head, he knew that it wouldn’t easily go away.

It was a childish desire but it was not one that he could help. He wanted someone, not only for himself but also for his papa.

“It would be nice…if we were a family.” Homer fiddled with his tie, uncertain. The words were out now and he feared that Abigail would react badly. Perhaps she would think that he went too far?

Abigail sighed and grabbed his hand. Her fingers were sticky and her palms were sweaty but he found comfort in the warmth of her hand. “Yeah,” she whispered softly, almost as afraid as he was.

x-x-x-x

Abigail nibbled absentmindedly on her piece of chicken. Her eyes lingered on her daddy thoughtfully – who was picking at his own meal, still grumbling over the dishes he broke earlier – and then switched to Mr. Lecter – who looked entirely too pleased with himself, almost like a cat that had gotten the cream.

She glanced at Homer, a question in her eyes, and he paused mid-chew. He gulped down the rest of his food. “Papa?” Everybody’s eyes turned towards Homer and he stammered. “C-can Abigail and Mr. Graham come over for dinner again?”

Abigail waited patiently, picking at the napkin her daddy had placed on her lap. Her daddy looked horrified by the question but most of her attention was on Mr. Lecter. He seemed pensive, eyes turning to her daddy who was avoiding meeting his eyes.

“I believe that is a question best left to Mr. Graham.”

When her daddy turned to look at her pleadingly, she made sure to give him her best puppy eyes. He was getting nothing else from her and she would make sure that he knew that. He had to give in sooner or later. Abigail knew that she could wear him down eventually if she needed to.

Without looking to the side, Abigail also knew that Homer was giving her daddy his best pout. Abigail had coached him through it and although he had been too embarrassed at first, he had quickly grown accustomed to it.

Her daddy wouldn’t be able to resist it.

She was proven right when he scrubbed a hand over his face in defeat. She did a little mental jig – as she wasn’t able to physically do it while seated and her daddy had warned her to “not pull that stunt during dinner, Abigail”.

Quickly changing the subject, knowing that if she allowed her daddy to think it through more thoroughly he’d suddenly change his mind, she pushed her carrots to the side,” Mm, this is very yummy, Mr. Lecter.”

It was much better than anything her daddy cooked. Not that she would tell him that, of course.

“Thank you, Abigail.” He smiled at her, acknowledging her kind gesture.

“Papa is the best cook in the whole world!” Homer interjected.

Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Daddy is,” she struggled to find what her daddy was best at; there were just too many possibilities,” the best fisherman ever!” She grinned at Homer and they nudged each other in the side.

“Abigail –“

“And he likes dogs!”

“Abi –“

“And he’s a hero!”

“A –“

“And he’s the best daddy in the world!” She was frenzied, becoming excited with every word. She loved talking about her daddy and once she got started, it was almost impossible to stop her. She was eager to share with the rest of the table just what made her daddy so special. Maybe then, Mr. Lecter would be even _more_ impressed.

Homer was paying attention attentively, just as eager to learn more. Her daddy’s face was flushed and he looked just about ready to hide under the table. Mr. Lecter on the other hand…well, Abigail didn’t think that it was necessary anymore to keep talking, as he didn’t seem to even be listening, instead more focused on her daddy.

She paused for a second, her smile growing. She poked Homer and he turned his attention to them, watching with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she continued rambling on, knowing that nobody was really listening anymore but finding it comforting to concentrate more on the sound of her own voice, lest she ruin the moment.

_Maybe…just maybe._

x-x-x-x

“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” Will rubbed the back of his neck. His hands trailed down to the pocket of his shirt, remembering at the last minute that his shirt didn’t actually have any pockets. He stuck them into the pocket of his pants instead.

“We very much enjoyed your company. You are more than welcome to return.” Will coughed into his hand, trying hard to not meet the man’s eyes. They had been on him the whole night and after his little incident in the kitchen, he would’ve thought that he would feel the hostility in his stare.

He certainly felt _something_ but it definitely wasn’t hostility.

“Right.” Will ignored Lecter and bent down slightly. “Goodnight, Homer. Thank you for having us, I’ll be sure to bring Abigail around again soon enough.” He really didn’t want to come back; not tomorrow, not the day after, or ever, for that matter. But Will’s problem was with Doctor Lecter, not Homer.

He would never begrudge them their friendship, no matter what. Homer and Abigail were far too innocent to understand the difficulties of adulthood and he would gladly spare them the pain of tearing them apart.

It wasn’t something that he would do; he could never be that cruel.

“Goodnight, Mr. Graham.” The boy smiled shyly up at him and Will face, which had been tense with a scowl for most of the night, softened. He straightened up to full height and laid a hand upon the boy’s head, gently ruffling his hair.

Abigail moved in, giving Homer a hug, reluctantly parting from him with downcast eyes. She said nothing else and she didn’t need to; her words were unsaid but clear all the same.

At last - he knew that it was truly unavoidable -he met Doctor Lecter’s eyes. They were molten and they burned into him just as they had been doing for hours. He was glad that he had his glasses on for direct contact would probably overwhelm him to the point of disaster.

He wanted to ask _why_ the man had developed an immediate interest in him but knew that now was not the time for such a conversation. He only hoped that it was something temporary because he wasn’t sure whether he could take much more of it. The man watched him as if he were waiting for him to perform the most elaborate trick, sanguine eyes studying him intently at all times.

It had been especially difficult to even talk to him, much less stay in the same room with him.

“Goodnight, Doctor Lecter.” With a nod to both father and son, he grabbed Abigail’s hand, leading them back towards their car.

Even as he walked away, he could still feel Doctor Lecter’s eyes burning a hole right through him.

But as he looked down at Abigail, her smile radiant and content, he realized that he would gladly go through this painful ordeal all over again.

Abigail’s happiness was worth every ounce of mortification.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys _do_ know that the fluff tag is paired with angst, right?

“Auntie Katz?” Abigail paused in her drawing, setting down her notebook. She looked up at her aunt until she finally turned around, eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah?” She went back to her own drawing, concentrating more on the deformed puppy she had been attempting to color in earlier.

“Why doesn’t daddy want to date other people?” The crayon in auntie Katz’s hand slipped and rolled down to the floor. She fumbled as she tried picking it up, cursing under her breath. Abigail decided not to call her out on it and waited patiently for her answer.

“Why would you ask that?” She looked panicked.

Abigail shrugged and decided to try a different approach instead.

“Do you love Auntie Alana?” she asked, truly curious. It wasn’t difficult to confuse their relationship as anything less than love and although Abigail had been confused at first, she had quickly become fascinated.

At school, she had been taught that usually, families were made up of one man and one woman as heads of the household. However, auntie Katz and auntie Alana seemed to differ in this case. It made Abigail wonder whether what she had been taught at school had been flawed all along and recently, she had started to wonder whether it could apply to her daddy as well.

Her aunt grew quiet and then,” I do.”

Abigail nodded, accepting it easily. It had been just as she had thought and she felt smug for being right in the first place.

“So, mommies can love mommies and daddies can love daddies too, right?” She knew that she was being more specific than required but all she really cared about was the latter.

“Abby, anyone can love anyone, regardless of whether it’s a man and another man or a woman or another woman. Love is love and it doesn’t discriminate nor is it limited to specific beliefs.” She bit her lip, pensive. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”

“Daddy.” She knew that it was enough of an explanation.

Without waiting for a sign to continue, Abigail finally found that she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her auntie had missed out on _a lot_ and Abigail had to make sure that she was definitely informed on the recent happenings; her auntie demanded for her to report everything interesting that occurred and she knew that this was no exception. “Homer’s papa likes daddy.” At least, that’s what she thought anyway. She wasn’t exactly sure just yet but Mr. Lecter seemed really keen on spending time with her reluctant daddy.

That had to mean that there was interest involved in there _somewhere_ right?

Auntie Katz’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed. Finally, she cleared her throat, eyes gleeful. “Is that so...and who is Homer? And why does his papa like your daddy?”

“Homer’s my best friend.” Abigail motioned for her aunt to come closer. She lowered her voice into a whisper, cupping a hand over her mouth as if revealing a secret. “There was this bully picking on him and I kicked his butt, just like you told me.” She was sure that her daddy wouldn’t approve of her aunt’s methods, which is why she hadn’t bothered in telling him.

He would most likely sulk around again, muttering complaints under his breath.

“Mr. Lecter,” she raised her eyebrows meaningfully at her auntie,” invited us to dinner.” She scrunched up her nose, eyes narrowed in thought. “But he kept making eyes at daddy the whole night. Just like this.” She pursed her lips, looking up at her aunt with what she hoped were lovey-dovey eyes; she had seen it often enough on TV. Seeing the confused look on her aunt’s face, she decided to clarify. “He looked hungry, like when I want to eat pizza but daddy is being stubborn and wants to eat fish for the third time in a week.”

Abigail was _really_ tired of fish. Her daddy made the best fish ever but fish was fish and it _always_ tasted like fish. Fried fish, broiled fish, grilled fish; it was all the same. She couldn’t see why she couldn’t eat pizza; her daddy could even get fish on it if he wanted to, but no –

She was pulled out of her thoughts by fingers snapping in her face. “Finally; I thought I had lost you there for a second, kiddo.” Her aunt looked amused, probably already used to her being easily distracted. “Tell me more about Mr. Lecter.”

Abigail grinned, finally ecstatic that she could share this with somebody else. Maybe auntie Katz could even lend a helping hand.

And so she started from the very beginning.

x-x-x-x

By the time that Will had finally arrived home, he was absolutely exhausted. He could still hear Jack’s voice ringing in his ears and all he wanted to do was to go straight to sleep, hunger be damned.

He could only hope that Abigail was at least fast asleep by now, although he doubted it; even if she was in bed by the appointed time, she usually laid in her bed, tiredly mumbling to her stuffed animals until she drifted off hours later.

Will wasn’t sure whether insomnia was inheritable but it appeared that Abigail had indeed, gotten it from him albeit it was a mild case.

Even so, typically on days that he arrived home late, she would even wait up for him until she was sure that he was safely at home.

Other times, it was something else.

But he hoped that tonight wasn’t one of _those_ nights.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by most of the pack. He counted only five dogs and assumed that the missing two – after looking at each canine face, he had deduced that the missing dogs were Winston and Buster - were probably keeping watch over Abigail. The pack had the tendency to switch shifts on most nights but at least Abigail was never left alone. Will chuckled as they whined at his feet, tails thumping loudly against the floor. Their eyes revealed the happiness they felt at his appearance and Will was overwhelmed by the burst of fondness that he felt for each.

“You have quite a gathering there, Graham.” He looked up to meet Beverly’s eyes. She was leaning against the frame of the kitchen door and she jerked her head back, gesturing for him to follow her. After he had given each dog a scratch behind their ears – mentally reminding himself that he had to do the same to the last remaining two – he did just that.

He found Beverly rummaging through the fridge.

“How was she?” He was handed a sandwich and Will looked at it questioningly.

“Abigail wanted to make you a sandwich. She said that you would probably skip dinner.” Beverly gave him a pointed glare which then turned slightly mischievous in nature. “She was great, though. No trouble on my end. Although...” she smirked,” she did reveal an interesting tidbit of information.”

Will hastily stuffed the sandwich into his mouth, nearly choking on it in his hurry.

“Apparently, not only has Abigail made a friend - which by the way, thanks for telling me - but also it seems that _you_ have made a friend of your own.”

Will shrugged, cheeks stuffed. His mouth was now dry but at least it prevented him from having to say anything else.

“ _Mr. Lecter_ , who invited you to dinner. No, no, wait, not just a simple _dinner_ either but dinner at his _home_.” She grew more excited with every word and Will reluctantly swallowed his masticated food.

“Yes, dinner with Abigail and Homer.” He felt that Beverly was missing this crucial point and he felt the need to also remind her. She was acting as if it had been a date and Will would definitely know whether it had been a date and a date it had been not.

Not that Beverly would really believe him. She would just as easily refute it with the fact that he hadn’t been on a date in years.

Not that it had really been for a lack of trying. He just hadn’t been able to find anyone whom would fit within their small family unit.

These were people who never made it past the first date much less ever got to meet Abigail. He knew that she wouldn’t approve if she ever found out and Will couldn’t exactly blame her for it either which was why he had given up eventually.

In between work and most especially Abigail, he hardly had any time left over for himself anyway, much less a relationship. Maybe someday he would be open to giving it another shot – _way_ into the future, that is.

“She got in trouble at school for defending Homer and Dr. Lecter invited us over for dinner as a thank you,” Will explained, hoping that it would be enough to stop the disbelieving glances that Beverly was currently throwing at him. They only strengthened in intensity and he rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt his frustration mounting.

Perhaps changing the subject would be better. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about Dr. Lecter. “Speaking of trouble, I would really appreciate it if you stopped giving Abigail the wrong idea. She broke a boy’s nose.” Not that Will cared much for that but he couldn’t have Abigail running rampant and wreaking havoc on the innocent either. He wouldn’t have enough money to cover the costs of therapy or hospital bills.

Beverly waved a dismissive hand. “He must’ve deserved it. Abigail knows not to use her powers for evil.”

Will scoffed.

Abigail would take over the world if she so wanted to. It was a good thing that she was much too young to care but Will had the feeling that she would make a great politician.

The thought was terrifying and certainly enough to give him nightmares.

“Regardless, she can’t be allowed to think that it’s fine to resort to violence to deal with every problem.” As an afterthought,” Do you realize if this continues on, we’ll end up broke due to me having to bail her out of jail constantly? Jack would have a field day.”

“Oh, please. She’s too smart to get caught; have faith in your daughter.” Will grudgingly conceded. “Anyway, don’t think that I don’t see what you’re trying to do.” She narrowed her eyes into slits. “I’ll find out more about this Dr. Lecter, even if it’s the last thing I do!” She turned around in a dramatic flourish.

She froze and then turned back around with a sheepish smile as she walked over to the fridge again. She pulled out another sandwich and at the bemused look on Will’s face, she asked,” What?” Her tone became defensive. “I have a long drive ahead of me. Plus, you owe me, Mr. ‘I didn’t go on a date with a doctor – I have no idea what you’re talking about’ Graham.”

This time, she walked off with a backwards wave, her sandwich in her free hand. “I’m telling Alana about this!”

Will’s eyes widened but by the time he had recovered enough to have time to react and go after her, she was already gone.

He cursed, mentally kicking himself.

While Beverly was too damn nosy for her own good, he could handle her well enough by dodging her pushy attacks. However, Alana was a different story and she could easily make him reveal everything before he even knew what had hit him. Her tactics were subtle yet devastating.

He slung an arm over his face. At least Beverly had given him a warning of sorts; it would give him enough time to compose himself for when Alana eventually decided to drop by – “Oh Will, just wanted to see how you and Abigail were doing; you know I worry endlessly about your wellbeing.”

It was too late and he was too tired to even begin contemplating future strategies to divert her expected curiosity. He would just have to pray to a faceless and unknown deity for a random burst of creativity in the morning.

He busied himself with cleaning the kitchen – Beverly was an absolute slob and she was the _worst_ babysitter ever – and picking up stray toys and crayons left behind. Finally, eyes rapidly growing heavier by the minute, he made sure to lock up.

Then, he headed to Abigail’s room, the rest of the pack following along behind him. The door was ajar and he pushed it open wider. Although the room was mostly dark, there was a nightlight beside Abigail’s bed that managed to illuminate enough of the figure cuddled up within the blankets. There were two other figures sleeping on the floor and Winston and Buster lifted their heads, tails wagging tentatively, but they didn’t move from their spot. The rest of the dogs padded in behind him and joined them.

The form beneath the blankets shifted and quietly turned to face the door, a curious and blotchy face peering up from underneath.

“Daddy?”

“Hey,” he whispered softly. As he had suspected earlier, Abigail was still wide awake. He tried not to make his staring too obvious but he could clearly see the wet streak of fresh tear tracks on her face. “Nightmares again?” He pulled himself further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to smooth over Abigail’s tangled locks, brushing her bangs off of her forehead. Despite the chill in the room, she was slightly sweaty and yet also, shivering even with the amount of quilts she had on top of her.

Abigail made a small noise, leaning into his touch. “I dreamt of monsters. People have monsters in their eyes, daddy.” She closed her own eyes, shuddering.

“They do.” He knew all too well the monsters that lurked behind calm facades. Unfortunately, so did Abigail. “But remember, the monsters can’t get to you.” They could get to him but Will would never allow them to even get close to Abigail; not while he was still alive and breathing and even beyond that.

The pads of his fingers carefully brushed away her tears. It was times like these that made him remember that Abigail was still, first and foremost, a child. He tended to forget that she was still growing and developing and adapting to new situations. He sometimes suspected that she knew too much – _saw_ too much – and was too intelligent for her own good. However, it was at night, in the dark and hidden from everybody else’s views but Will’s, that it truly cemented the fact that she was _his_ child.

She had grown into Molly’s personality but at the cost of also gaining Will’s defects.

He wished he knew a way of easing the pain for her but even he still suffered from the same problems. All he could do was stay by her side and offer her comfort when she needed it, even if she wouldn’t admit to it.

She was stubborn, extremely so and he would be hard pressed in convincing her to accept that vulnerability wasn’t always such a bad thing.

“Why do people become monsters?” She looked up at him beseechingly, seeking answers for the questions that she couldn’t figure out on her own.

 He slowly, but surely, felt her shivering subside and he sighed in relief. Will pondered her question, gently running his fingers through Abigail’s hair as he tried thinking of the best way to respond to it.

Monsters were mere men, devolved and deformed. They gave in to the darkness that called their names because nobody else cared enough to call them back into the light. They were creatures borne of abandonment and loneliness and over time, they became greedy for _more_. They became insatiable beings who, no matter the amount of times that they tried, could not fill the empty void within themselves. And thus, they desperately clung to any semblance of routine, of companionship regardless of how disturbing and morbid their methods were.

“Because they don’t have someone like you in their lives.” Monsters had no light at the end of the tunnel, only obscurity.

Abigail hummed but said nothing else. A small hand reached out from underneath the mountain of blankets and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Can you stay, daddy?” She asked in a hushed voice, insecurity edging into her tone.

Will squeezed her hand in return. “Of course.” He toed off his shoes and lifted up the corners of the blankets. Although the bed was small, he forced himself to fit, just as he always did. Afterwards, when he had become comfortable, Will pulled Abigail into his arms and she rested her head against his chest, curling in close. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly; an attempt to keep him in place and to ensure that he didn’t leave.

He kissed the top of her head, hands soothingly rubbing her back, reassuring her that he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

He didn’t know how long it was but eventually, her grip loosened and her breathing grew even, her body going slack.

He stared into the darkness of the room, the tiredness that he felt before, now gone for the moment. He instead focused on the soft snoring of the dogs resting below and Abigail’s snuffled breaths.

It was as if his body knew that there were more important matters at hand and they definitely didn’t include getting any rest.

As far as he knew, he had his whole world in his arms and there was nothing more important than keeping her safe from the unseen monsters that haunted her in her dreams.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about taking so long! I've been all out of sorts. Anyway, this chapter wasn't as long as the last one but hopefully the next one will be. 
> 
> Feedback is always much appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

“Eat your tomatoes, Homer.”

Homer grunted, blinking down blearily at his protein scramble. The yellow of the eggs was mesmerizing and Homer’s tired mind eagerly latched onto the thought, bringing up pictures of equally yellow things.

Bananas were yellow. Lemons were yellow. So was the sun…but the sun was orange sometimes too. Not at all the time though, it _was_ mostly yellow. Although right now, it was really just annoying. The sun rays that shone through the windows was making it harder to sleep and Homer so desperately wanted to go back to sleep.

“Homer.”

His eyelids started drooping and his grip on his fork slackened, his hair flopping into his face.  

“We don’t sleep where we eat, Homer. It is very rude.” The voice had changed from exasperated to stern and it was this that jerked Homer awake.

He could barely bring to mind the memories of being woken up earlier than usual. He could remember even less about being walked through brushing his teeth and getting dressed.

“I’m sorry, papa,” he mumbled quietly, bowing his head and shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

He absolutely _disliked_ waking up early. It always took him longer to function more normally than other people. It wasn’t that Homer slept late – his papa ensured that he was always in bed by eight and no later than that, no matter his many complaints – it was just that…Homer’s mind and body didn’t want to cooperate with him so early in the morning and it was quickly becoming a problem.

If it wasn’t for his papa, Homer would probably spend all morning in bed with no one being any the wiser.

He was still fighting against sleep and probably would be for another hour or so. He could hardly even taste the breakfast papa had cooked for him but at least he could safely assume that it was delicious, just like everything that his papa cooked.

Homer picked at his tomato slices, glancing up furtively at his papa. He pouted when he realized that his papa was studying him closely, wanting to make sure that he did indeed finish off his tomatoes. He picked one up, resisting the urge to curl his lip in disgust.

Tomatoes were sour, bitter, and oddly sweet and Homer’s taste buds were always confused, not sure on which flavor to focus first on. They were mushy and icky and their juices morbidly reminded him of blood.

He had no trouble eating anything else but tomatoes had always been a weakness of his which is why his papa constantly attempted to get him used to them by putting them in most of his dishes.

The drawback was that instead of making him like them, it only made him more resolute in his aversion towards them.

“I don’t like tomatoes, papa.” Homer always felt the need to remind his papa of this; he wasn’t sure whether it would help his cause but there was no harm in trying anyway.

“I know,” he chuckled,” however, you must eat them.”

 _But why_ , he wanted to ask. He refrained from doing it, not truly wanting to question his papa in this manner. His papa wouldn’t really say anything but it would get him an even stare either way and those always made Homer feel guilty. His papa expected him to be as responsible as he could be and Homer strived to exceed his expectations.

Back talking was a huge _no-no_ in the Lecter household.

He picked up another slice of tomato, eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust it. He couldn’t trust any fruit that passed itself off as a vegetable. It was most definitely rude and he didn’t understand why nobody had been consulted over this.

Fruits were yummy and sweet and tomatoes were _not_.

He mumbled softly under his breath, sulkily nibbling on the red skin. Acidic juice burst into his mouth and Homer winced but kept chewing through it, swallowing thickly.

After he was done and there were not any tomatoes left in sight, Homer turned his eyes to his papa who had been attentively watching him finish off the rest of his food. When he saw that he had eaten everything, he nodded, his lips curling up into a pleased smile. “Very good, Homer.”

Homer beamed, his disgust forgotten for the moment. The best part of having to eat icky stuff that he hated was the pride that he could hear in his papa’s voice afterwards.

It made it almost worth it.

_Almost._

He briefly wondered what Abigail was having for breakfast. She had told him many times before that her daddy couldn’t cook and Homer felt a pang of pity, knowing that no one else’s cooking could even compare to his papa’s.

Perhaps Homer could convince his papa to invite them over for breakfast someday too? It would be a nice change from their usual quiet breakfast and it would make Homer extremely happy to share another meal with them. He also suspected that his papa wouldn’t mind the suggestion much at all; for the last week, he had been in quite a mood because Abigail’s daddy had taken to avoiding him.

Maybe Homer should try to advise his papa that staring tended to make people uncomfortable. Homer suffered from the same problem, after all.

“Homer.” With wide eyes, he stared back at his papa, worried that his mind had been read. “At what time is Abigail usually dropped off?”

Eyebrows furrowed, Homer pushed away the cobwebs from his head, still slightly dazed and sleepy. His eyes narrowed in thought and he bit his lip, trying to accurately recall the answer to his papa’s question.

Homer usually arrived earlier than Abigail and he was always stuck having to wait for her, growing bored and impatient at the lack of the familiar vivacious girl. He always sat on the school steps, watching the cars come and go, ears perked and paying attention to the accustomed and unmistakable sound of Abigail’s daddy’s car.

Most of the time, it was her daddy that dropped her off, although one time it had been a pretty lady that Homer had never seen before. She had left with a warm smile and Homer had briefly considered telling his papa about her appearance but at the last minute decided not to.

He wished that he could remember the exact time that Abigail arrived but unfortunately, his mind was not usually focused on the concept of time, instead more excited by her much welcomed arrival.

“I don’t know,” he admitted at last, unable to stall any longer. “I’m always there first though.” He hoped that it was enough although he wasn’t entirely sure why his papa wanted to know this piece of information anyway.

“Hm.” Sanguine eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. Homer followed his gaze, jumping down from his chair when he realized what time it was. He gathered his empty plate and his utensils, getting ready to head towards the dishwasher.

“Papa, we’re going to be late!” he called out, mentally going over his homework check list, wanting to ensure that he had completed each assignment even though he knew that his papa had already made sure of that earlier.

He realized that this was a rare occurrence and he was shocked that his papa had suddenly grown so lax in his set of rules; he never strayed away from them and this was really unusual of him. They were usually out of the door by now, on their way to school.

His papa was _never_ late, ever, as in the history of _ever_ _ever_.

Instead of getting up, his papa stayed seated, calmly drinking his coffee. “We can afford to be late just this once.” He nodded to the seat that Homer had just vacated. “Sit.”

Stunned, Homer did as he was told. His papa gave him a small patient smile and opened up his newspaper, looking satisfied and relaxed.

It was worse than Homer had thought; he now feared that his papa was gravely ill. There was no other possible explanation for his behavior.

He had to tell Abigail about this, maybe her daddy could help.

x-x-x-x

“Daddy, I’m going to be late _again_ ,” whined Abigail, tugging at her ponytail. She knew that she was probably ruining the hard work that her daddy had put into doing it for her but right now, she was wondering whether she’d ever make it to school at the rate they were going.

Normally, she wouldn’t mind but school was really the only time that she was able to see Homer and since her daddy was still being as stubborn as a donkey – Auntie Katz had used other terms for it which had made Abigail giggle endlessly – she had to settle for school.

She had tried getting her daddy to at least _talk_ to Mr. Lecter but every time that she attempted it, he walked away and did something else, pretending to not have heard.

Abigail was half tempted to strap him down to a chair but she really didn’t know where the duct tape was and she was pretty sure that her daddy would be way too strong for her anyway.

She would’ve asked Auntie Katz for help but she also knew that her daddy would become even _more_ stubborn when faced with no other choice. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he cooked fish for a week straight afterwards and Abigail definitely didn’t want to risk that either.

He had recently conceded to pizza.

Regardless, this was cutting into her plans of discussing _important_ matters with Homer and Abigail did not like it at all.

“Don’t worry; we’ll make it.” Strong hands gripped onto the steering wheel tightly. “Stop pulling on your hair, you could at least make it seem as if I had made an effort.” Abigail snorted, resting her head against the window.

Daddy’s efforts were appreciated but Abigail could at least admit to herself – because telling her daddy would probably hurt his feelings and so there was no way she was doing it; his sad face was _really_ upsetting – that she liked it when auntie Alana did her hair, although those times were rare and few in between.

“Daddy…” Abigail started, fidgeting with the material of her gloves and adjusting her glasses. “Why don’t you like Mr. Lecter?”

If she was going to be late to school then the least her daddy could do was make up for it in some way.

She heard spluttering beside her and she turned towards the noise, already knowing the face her daddy would be pulling right about now.

It was usually a mix between incredulous and offended; lips pursed and eyes wide. Auntie Katz secretly referred to it as the ‘I can’t lie to save my life’ face and Abigail liked to refer to it as the ‘daddy says no but means yes’ face.

“What makes you think that I don’t like him?” He glanced at her disbelievingly, looking affronted by the accusation.

“Because whenever he’s around you have that face, like when one of the dogs rolls around in the mud and we have to clean them up,” she said matter-of-fact.

“I do _not_.”

“Do too,” she drawled, smile smug as realization dawned on her suddenly.  

She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t considered it before; she should’ve done it from the very beginning, it was so _easy_.

“Are you afraid of Mr. Lecter, daddy?” If there was one thing that her daddy couldn’t handle, it was definitely someone questioning him. She peered up at him coyly from underneath her lashes, her smile widening at the tick in her daddy’s jaw.

“Because if you are –“

“I’m not afraid of him; I simply don’t care for him.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Abigail muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you don’t care then why don’t you want to talk to him?” She raised a brow, knowing that her daddy would no doubt come up with the same tired excuses as before. As he opened his mouth to retort, she knew that she had to finish this silliness once and for all; her daddy was acting more like a child than _she_ did and that was completely unacceptable.

There was only room for one kid in this family.

For now.

“Homer’s papa thinks that you’re just a big, old scaredy-cat. You can’t let him win, daddy, you have to prove to him that you’re not scared!” Mr. Lecter hadn’t said anything of the sort but sacrifices had to be made; hopefully he would understand, it was for the greater good after all. She shifted in her seat, hands shooting up and loudly banging against the roof of the car. “You’ve got to show him that you mean business and that you’re not scared of anybody, especially of a snooty doctor like him!”

She kept her eyes on the road but she could still see her daddy in the corner of her eye and she mentally high-fived herself when she noticed him tense, face hardening with determination.  He didn’t say anything but at this point he didn’t have to.

Abigail tugged at her ponytail again, chewing at the end of her hair to stop herself from cackling outright.

She wasn’t hurrying to get to school anymore; at least now she had time to bask in her well-deserved victory.

x-x-x-x

Will hesitated in getting out of the car. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, resting his head upon them.

He didn’t want to get out. In fact, he wanted to stay here for the rest of his life. Perhaps Abigail and he could move into the car; they wouldn’t even have to leave for food – it wasn’t anything that a good drive-thru couldn’t fix.

There was a gentle tap against the window and Will jumped, nearly banging his head against the hard plastic of the dashboard.

Abigail stood outside, arms crossed and foot tapping on the ground. Will reluctantly lowered the window, already anticipating another tirade from her.

“Daddy. Get out of the car.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Will copied the gesture, growing irritated by her lack of respect.

She treated him like a child when in fact, it was completely the other way around.

Although he was also slightly impressed by her no nonsense attitude.

It was just too bad that she had decided to try it out on him.

“Abigail, it’s my car. If I want to stay inside then I can.” He was not pouting. He _wasn’t_. He just didn’t see a reason for why he had to do anything that he didn’t want to.

Abigail crept in closer, sticking her head through the window. “Daddy, we talked about this, remember?” He did. It was hard to forget how she had implied that he was afraid of _Dr. Lecter_ , of all people.

It was absolutely preposterous.

He wasn’t afraid of Dr. Lecter. He had met cats that had inspired more fear in others.

Will stepped into the shoes of other murderers for a living, every goddamned day; he had encountered the most frightening sights and he had seen every possibility.  By now, he even knew the many ways to dissect a corpse and the many uses for various organs. He certainly had enough knowledge to kill a man if he wanted to.

Dr. Lecter was a pretentious man who didn’t seem to like taking no for an answer and he had terrible taste in suits – Will had never seen anyone use so much plaid so enthusiastically before, he wasn’t even aware that you could _get_ plaid suits – and he also had problems with personal space and perhaps there was a need to tell him that his staring was very obvious, however, Dr. Lecter was not scary and therefore, Will was not afraid of him.

At all.

Abigail tugged on his arm and Will sighed, swiftly turning off the ignition. She opened the door for him, almost as if she knew that he would drag this out if given the chance, and soon enough, she was leading him towards the man that he had been avoiding the past week.

He hadn’t expected to run into him here – Will was usually late in dropping off Abigail and he had never seen the doctor here around that time either – and when he had first spotted him with Homer, Will had almost hunched down in the driver’s seat so the man wouldn’t see him.

He didn’t do it though.

And not because Abigail had glared at him but because Will would not stoop that low. He certainly had more pride than that.

“Mr. Graham,” greeted Dr. Lecter,” what a pleasant surprise.” Will mumbled a quiet greeting of his own, instead turning his eyes to watch the warm interaction between Abigail and Homer. It eased the tension that he had been feeling beforehand although not by much.

“It seems that you were both running late as well.” Will glanced up quickly at the doctor, taking in his polite smile. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Indeed. It appears that we may miscalculated the amount of time that we had and unfortunately, overslept.” Will snorted, pushing his glasses up.

“Mr. Graham, if you don’t mind –“

“Will,” he interjected with a weary sigh, desperate to get this conversation over with. He was already late for work and honestly, he much rather preferred looking at corpses than having to talk to Dr. Lecter.

“Pardon?” Dr. Lecter’s eyebrows knitted together and he stared at him in bemusement.  

“Call me Will.” He really hated to be referred to as ‘Mr. Graham’ constantly; it reminded him too much of his own father and although he had been a great man, it disconcerted him greatly to have to carry his title.

“Will…” Dr. Lecter’s smile widened knowingly, as if sharing an inside joke. Perhaps it was an inside joke with himself because Will had no idea _why_ he was looking at him as if he had just performed the most impressive magic trick. “Then I must insist that you allow me the same courtesy.”

“Ah, no, that’s fine,” Will let out in a rush, eyes wide. Calling Dr. Lecter by his name would suggest that they were becoming closer and Will was not prepared for such implications just yet. He knew that it was inevitable – after all, their children were best friends – but while he still could, Will wanted to cling to the hope that he wouldn’t have to see the doctor so often. 

He was only trouble and quite frankly, he made him uncomfortable. The man was slightly creepy, with his suits and staring and…and…suits.

“I must insist –“

“And I must disagree with your insisting –“

“It truly would be rude not to –“

“I assure you, not rude –“

“Please do at least consider –“

“No consideration necessary – “

“Daddy,” a hand grabbed onto his, pulling on it deliberately. “Friends call each other by their names.” It was said innocently enough but the eyes looking up at him warned him that if he didn’t agree, they were going to do serious damage, _soon_.

Last time that Abigail did so was when Will had tried to get Abigail to participate in dance class – which was really Alana’s idea in the first place, anyway  so all the blame lay with her – and he had ended up with ten angry mothers on his hands because Abigail had danced around clumsily on purpose, squishing many other small toes in the process.

Will sighed.

“Dr. Hannibal, then.” It was the most he could do for now; dropping the title completely would take some time. Abigail beamed up at him nonetheless; her smile approving and Will rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

She was a little hellion.

But she was _his_ little hellion.

Dr. Lecter – _Dr. Hannibal_ – merely nodded, not at all bothered by the unvoiced condtion that he had set. A movement out of the corner caught his eye and he watched as Homer unhesitatingly grabbed his father’s hand, quietly observing the scene.

The boy had been quiet thus far, enough that Will had almost forgotten that he was still around, too focused on starting an argument with the doctor.

Ironically, although Homer seemed to share physical aspects with his father, a lot of the similarities stopped there, from what Will had seen so far. It was strangely endearing although it in no way softened his uneasiness with Dr. Lecter – _Hannibal._

It was definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Papa, can I play with Abigail after school?” Will’s eye twitched at the suggestion; he could already sense the storm coming and he had not brought along his trusty umbrella. 

“Daddy! Can we?” Abigail shook his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Pretty please with doggies on top?” Her bottom lip trembled, a pout forming. Will inwardly groaned, running his free hand through his hair. Whenever she got like this, it was difficult to make her stop; she often pestered him until he eventually gave in.

“Abigail, I don’t think –“

“Homer, it would be most disrespectful to make plans without the necessary permission. I am sure that Mr. Graham is a very busy man,” said Dr. Hannibal.

Will sagged, slumping over in relief even as Abigail dropped the act, eyes hardening with displeasure at the obvious refusal.

“Besides, wouldn’t a picnic during the weekend be a much better idea?” The question was presented with an amused subtle tilt of the doctor’s lips. He was completely aware of what he had just done – not even concerning himself with hiding his smugness over the unpredicted move - and with great dread, Will glanced down at the two small figures, their faces growing bright with excitement at the suggestion.

“Daddy!”

“Mr. Graham!”

“William.”

All of their voices rose questioningly and they looked at him expectantly. It was terribly uncomfortable to have so many eyes on him – most especially the sanguine ones that never truly ever left his form for very long. However, he was more focused on Abigail and although her face looking pleading, her eyes clearly reminded him of their earlier conversation.

Will’s eyes narrowed.

In the midst of it all, he had forgotten his resolve.

He was no “scaredy-cat”.

He glared at the doctor, still feeling the sting of the insult even though it hadn’t been said directly.

“Fine,” he gritted out, baring his teeth into what he hoped resembled a smile. He heard the distinct cheering from below but he kept his eyes on Dr. Hannibal, a challenge in his eyes. The man raised a brow; he looked confused. It was almost as if he didn’t know why Will was acting this way but Will knew better; the doctor was a very good actor but he could see right through the polite smile.

He just wanted to mess with him and Will was in no way allowing that to happen. Many people believed that Abigail had gotten her hardheadedness from Molly but only a few knew better; Will was probably the most stubborn person in existence.

Abigail tugged on his hand once again, this time leading him towards the school, Homer and Dr. Hannibal following directly behind.

With any luck, he thought bitterly, the doctor would trip over a rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was like, nope, no way, no long chapters, so I tried my best to keep it that way because they're killing me. 
> 
> But then I'm like, but people like long chapters, right? Right.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated, anyway <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed. Let me know if there are any mistakes.

The rest of the week went by like a blur, each day merging into the next and dragging along with it its unfortunate bystanders. While those days were few, Will felt the heaviness of them in the pit of his stomach. It was very difficult to swallow and all he really wanted was to forget anything prior to what he had agreed to a few days past.

Unfortunately, life was never that easy, especially with a destructive seven year old in tow. Sometimes Will reminisced about the simpler days; back when the most trouble Abigail could make was by crawling back and forth with a lost expression on her face.

She had been quiet and shy as a baby, often too afraid of her own shadow and always readily clinging onto him.

Now he was just lucky if she didn’t cause more damage to the house. As it was, they still hadn’t been able to get the washing machine to function the way it used to.

“Daddy, you have to hurry up!” Will raised a brow as Abigail rushed past him, gathering up her toys. She quickly disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom and emerged with unoccupied hands. She ran past again, disappearing with other toys.

Will sighed and picked up a stray doll that had fallen along the way. When he poked his head into Abigail’s room, he saw her determinedly shoving her toys into the toy chest although in her hurry, it was only proving to be futile as she couldn’t even seem to get the lid closed.

“Shoving more in there won’t make them fit.” He bent down beside her, moving toys out of the way and organizing them into a neat pile. “They won’t be here for another few hours, anyway.”

Not that he thought that they would care about the state of Abigail’s toy chest. Or the rest of the house – which was really just an excuse for not thoroughly cleaning up; it wasn’t as if the picnic would take place inside; at least he hoped not.

“But daddy,” she whined,” this is the _first_ time that they’ll be at our house! Don’t you want to impress them?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Not really.” The Lecters could either take it or leave it; it wasn’t as if this had been Will’s idea in the first place. If Dr. Hannibal minded it at all then it would be his own fault; the man had practically brought it on himself.

“Daddy,” she stretched out the last syllable, impatiently slamming her toy chest closed. “If we impress them, then maybe they’ll come over again!”

He shuddered at the thought. If that was the case then Will would happily grab all of Abigail’s toys and drop them randomly throughout the house. He would grab each dog and rub them all over the furniture. He would gladly drag in the boat motors he had been working on previously.

“Daddy, no.” Abigail threw him a glare as if she had known what he had been thinking about. It was possible that she did but that didn’t excuse it either. He hated it when she did that, it made it difficult to hide anything from her.

“Fine.” But he was doing it for Homer. _Not_ Dr. Hannibal. If the man wanted cleanliness then he could’ve very well damn well have stayed in his own home.

Abigail smiled, quickly running to her dresser. She grabbed a hairband and motioned him down. Bemused, Will knelt down in front of her and he felt her small fingers comb through his hair. She struggled for a minute and then there was a sharp pressure against his head as she slid the hairband onto his head. She pushed it up until it reached his hairline and his curls were cleanly swept back and away from his face.

“There. Now we can get to work,” she winked at him cheekily. Will chuckled, standing back up again and giving her a gentle pat on the head. He was more than used to her antics and this was no different.

After all this time, he learned to just go along with it.

x-x-x-x

Will knew that by the time that the Lecters eventually arrived, the house would be absolutely spotless. Will and Abigail had pushed themselves with each task and they coordinated themselves easily, so in sync with each other’s movements.

After the first half hour, Abigail had turned on the radio. She had knowingly settled on an oldies station and Will hummed with approval, his smile warm and content. It reminded him of his father and it was something that he had always carried with him; the classical tunes that sounded like bottled up sunshine and happiness.

It was also something that he had hoped to pass onto Abigail, wanting to always share with her such an important piece of his life. She had taken to it when she had been just a mere baby, cooing and babbling along to the crooned words. Her small pudgy feet would later kick out, following along with the upbeat tunes.

And whenever he put her to bed in her crib, he would softly sing to her the songs that his father had sung to him. He always kept his voice light and gentle, not wanting to frighten her but she only looked up at him with awe, unblinking big blue eyes never moving away from his face.

She had captured his heart from day one, since the very first day he had found out of her existence.

 _“There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.”_ Abigail belted out as she wiped at a spot on the floor.

Will grinned. _“Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung.”_ He walked over to her and stood by her side, joining in on the scrubbing. _“Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game…”_

 _“It’s easy!”_ Abigail finished off with a bright smile. She waved her arms around, the rag in her hands moving along with her gesture. Will hip checked her and she laughed, repeating the same action although it had less of an impact on him.

They continued on in their tasks without another word, both of them humming along to the rest of the song.

Before they knew it, Will and Abigail had completed all of their work and they had lost track of the number of songs that they had sung along to. Reluctantly, both of them turned off the radio once they remembered that although the house was now clean, they certainly weren’t.

Abigail had readily washed up and Will had done so after her although he had grumbled about it through the whole process. He had thrown on the first clothes he could find and he at least made a brave attempt at brushing back his hair although he knew that it would mostly just go back to its default state of a bird’s nest.

He ignored the small voice inside his head that told him that he wasn’t fooling anyone with his forced nonchalance.

He walked by Abigail’s open room and then stopped at the sight within.

“I thought you didn’t like dresses.” Will narrowed his eyes at her accusingly.

“I _don’t_ like dresses,” Abigail reminded him hastily. “But…this one isn’t that bad.” It wasn’t a dress that Will had seen before and he vaguely remembered it being a gift from Alana. Will had to grudgingly admit that it wasn’t bad at all. It was a simple enough dress; navy blue with gray cuffed sleeves and buttons along the left shoulder. The material of the dress looked thick but comfortable and Abigail shyly tugged at the hem of the neckline, blue eyes seeking approval.

He waited a minute just to watch her squirm. “You look beautiful,” he said at last. He smiled warmly at her and she beamed up at him. She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him and then quickly let go of him and turned away to dash back to her dresser, pulling out a pair of black socks. She pulled them on and over her calves and settled them a few inches below her knees. She then grabbed a pair of black boots and turned back to him, spinning around to show off the finished result.

“I look great and don’t you forget it!” Abigail wagged her finger at him playfully. She pursed her lips and walked around him in circles, eyes scrutinizing his own ensemble.

“Not bad, daddy. Not bad at all.”

Will looked down at his usual plaid shirt and casual jeans and his face scrunched up, puzzled. It wasn’t anything amazing or even drastically different and yet Abigail was making it sound as if he had cleaned up extremely well.

“Uh…thanks. I guess.” He scratched his chin. It was always best to just to go along with Abigail most of the time. Unless what she wanted to go along with was hazardous, in which case, he had to call Beverly.

He mentally went through all of their completed tasks and wondered briefly if there were more that he was missing. He didn’t know why he was making such a huge effort – seeing as he had been the one arguing against it in the first place – but it was too late to turn back now.

Even all of the dogs had gotten a bath and they had been locked in most of the day, just to prevent them from going out and rolling in less than desirable things.

Abigail had even gone all out and put ribbons around a few of the (un)fortunate pack members – “Daddy, they’re _family_ , they should look nice too!”

“We’re not missing anything, are we?” he asked. He couldn’t trust himself to make a final decision; he usually left those up to Abigail.

“Hm.” She tapped a finger against her bottom lip. “I don’t think so…” she murmured uncertainly. Neither of them knew for certain. They looked each other and then shrugged, unsure but not really finding it of upmost importance, after all.

“Should we have made something?” Will furrowed his brows, biting down on his lip. Dr. Hannibal had assured him that there was no need to go out of his way; the fact that he was already providing the location was enough. Anything else would be considered far too rude.

“No!” squeaked Abigail. She cleared her throat. “Daddy, Mr. Lecter said it was OK.” She nudged him with her pointy elbow. “We’re good,” she said with a grin.

Will huffed. It wasn’t that difficult to figure out that nobody really wanted him to cook but he at least knew how to pick his battles. Besides, it was one less thing for him to do; this way, he wouldn’t have to deal with picking everything up and returning it to its rightful place afterwards.

Both of them froze when they heard the telltale crunch of gravel outside. Before Will could react, Abigail had dashed out, a dark blur in the corner of his eye.

He heard the door slam shut and the familiar and excited barking of the dogs as they realized that they had new visitors.

With a sigh, Will followed behind, trying _very_ hard to not drag his feet.

x-x-x-x

“Hi, Mr. Lecter!” Abigail greeted cheerfully. It was difficult to hide her eagerness but once she saw Homer step out of the car, she couldn’t help herself. The boy grunted in surprise as she embraced him but relaxed and returned the hug. It was just a few days ago that they had seen each other but for both of them – who were still unable to correctly distinguish the difference in the concept of time – it felt as if it had been forever.

“Hello, Abigail.” Dr. Lecter gave her a quick smile as he pulled out a basket. Abigail’s eyes widened as she realized that it was probably their picnic basket. She dragged Homer along behind her, hurriedly walking up to the man.

“Can I help?” The basket looked big but she was sure that she could drag it if she needed to. Her and Homer could each hold one end; surely they could do it.

The man chuckled. “Perhaps later.”

She shrugged; it was his loss, her daddy always said that she had to be helpful but if Mr. Lecter didn’t want her help then who was she to argue?

“Where’s your daddy?” Homer whispered to her. He fiddled with the cuff of his jacket, glancing up at her nervously. “Papa is really _really_ excited.”

Abigail knew that her daddy was probably taking his time in coming out. “He’s putting on his shoes.” As a last though, she added,” He’s really excited too.” It wasn’t exactly true but there was no harm in pretending.

A wet nose nudged her hand and Abigail reached out, already knowing that she’d find a furry canine face attached to it. Hearing Homer’s gasp, she turned around, ready to spring into action. She smiled when she spotted a hesitant Winston prodding the boy’s side.

“You have so many dogs,” he said, awe apparent in his voice.

“I told you.” She regarded each pack member with a fond look, lingering on those that had a pink ribbon attached to their ears.

“I hope you don’t mind dogs.” Abigail whirled around, taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of her daddy. He was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, looking slightly uncomfortable as he shuffled his feet. He wasn’t looking at them, although he did spare them an acknowledging nod, but at Mr. Lecter who looked torn between greeting her daddy and pushing the dog that was curiously sniffing at him, away.

“Not at all.” He smiled tightly.

“Great. Because we have seven.” Her daddy smirked and Abigail narrowed her eyes. He looked as if he was itching to shove them all onto Mr. Lecter.

_Daddy, no._

x-x-x-x

Seven dogs.

Hannibal had to admit that that was unexpected.

And slightly overwhelming.

He smiled, making sure to show that this recent bit of news did not surprise him or bothered him in the least.

He had suspected that Will already had dogs; it would have been insulting to not have noticed the stray spots on his clothing that oftentimes were covered with pet dander.

He just hadn’t expected for the man to have _seven_ dogs.

Hannibal glanced at the house standing behind Will. It truly was difficult to imagine how seven dogs and two people could even fit in such a small abode.

He cleared his throat, hesitantly reaching down to pet the small dog that nudged at his leg. He tried very hard to not think about the hair that would get on his clothing. It was just as well that he had decided to forego his usual suit and had gone for casual slacks and a maroon sweater instead.

“Papa...may I…?” Homer looked up at him beseechingly, his small hands curling into fists to stop himself from outright petting the dogs.

Hannibal considered it for a moment. He was not a hard man by any means but he was terribly selective when it came to what Homer was allowed to do or not do. However, looking at Homer’s hopeful face now, eyes pleading with him, he found it impossible to deny him something so small and somehow significant.

He nodded and Homer jumped up, reaching for the dog nearest to him. Abigail joined him, softly mumbling to him the names of each dog and it was not long until they crowded around Homer and Abigail, tails wagging wildly with excitement at the newfound attention from a stranger.

It wasn’t that Hannibal disliked animals. Not completely, anyway. It was just that quite frankly, he did not have the time or the patience to care for them. What free time he _did_ have left over, he made sure to dedicate to Homer only.

Although, he thought as he chanced a glance at a sullen Will Graham and a beaming Abigail, lately he had found the time to dedicate his time to other...intriguing matters.

Case in point, if such matters proved to be fruitful – as he eventually expected them to – then he knew that a pack of dogs was only one thing amongst the many others, that he would soon have to grow used to.

It was, after all, inevitable.

Will Graham had proven to be very fascinating and although he had not meant to become so invested in the man, each reluctant greeting and annoyed scowl only helped to increase the interest he had in him.  He had to wonder why Will was so hesitant to accept him when he had easily accepted Homer.

It could be that the reason for why it was so was because children were unbiased and held no expectations. They were innocent, shielded by the horrors and disappointment of reality. They were honest, sometimes brutally so, but usually with the intention to not harm but to inform.

Homer was more innocent than most and Hannibal wished to protect him from the future although he knew that it was impossible.

He was aware that he was not an openly affectionate parent. He believed those moments were best left in private although he could also admit that even then, he was not suited for sweet gestures or words. He showed his care in the form of stern words and small smiles; sometimes with an acknowledging pat or even with holding Homer’s small hand in his, despite how often clammy and sweaty it became.

Hannibal had not known affection beforehand. He had never felt the need to seek it out nor had he ever longed for it.

Not since Mischa.

There had been but one time that he had expressed true happiness and it had been when Homer had been born. His lively cries had been more beautiful than any song he had ever heard; it was the song of birth and survival and it had been so sweet, radiating newborn purity. Every moment since then was a continuation of that happiness, paired with parental pride.

Before, he had heard of parents who were proud of every little achievement their child did. Hannibal had thought it unnecessary and tedious. He hadn’t understood the irrationality that came with parenthood then.

He did now.

And while he did not express himself as much as those parents, his pride was undeniable and sincere albeit more subtle.

There was a certain difficulty that came along with adapting to being a father. His _lifestyle_ was not one that he had wished to bring a child into. Unfortunately, the choice had not been his though he did settle the issue with the origin of the problem after her use had expired.

Fortunately, he had gained an unexpected treasure due to the debacle.

No, his ways of life had not changed drastically; it was safe to say that his hobbies remained the same. The only difference was that now, he had more to lose.

Which also meant that now, any harm that threatened to come close to Homer, was his first and only priority.

Perhaps the reason for _why_ Will Graham had caught his attention so completely was because he had caught glimpse of something similar lurking within the shadows of his eyes.

This was a man that was not meek in any way; a sharp tongue and flashing blue eyes that looked right through you. There was a hidden savagery laced within his words, even in his understated gestures. Everything, every single action, every single word, came down to the well-being of his own child.  

Hannibal could see that this was a man that would protect his daughter to the death, be it his or anyone else’s.

Hannibal’s skin had prickled with awareness, a spark of electricity in the air, when he had first met Will’s eyes.

He had watched, intrigued, as the man before him had transformed from dangerous to tender. Although his daughter had been his main focus, he had also given Homer the kindness of his words, the beauty of his smile.

Every action of his afterwards was in attempt to shorten the distance between them. He found Will’s attempts amusing; the more that he protested and sulked, the more determined Hannibal became. He was a persistent man; one with an infinite amount of patience.

Abigail, Hannibal suspected, was not only a blessing in disguise – he did so admire the small girl’s strength and attitude, she was bigger than life and he truly did believe that her presence was good for Homer – but was also perhaps responsible for the majority of the events that had occurred. She had a penchant for manipulation and it was at the very least, something he wished to see develop further.

She meant no harm – other than to those who threatened her and her loved ones and she was a pleasure to have around – he had actually found himself smiling and chuckling at her antics although he was aware that he would never wish for Homer to behave the same way. Hannibal was certain that if he had the chance to talk to little Ms. Abigail, she would have plenty to say about her father.

The thought almost proved to be too tempting.

He politely refrained. The tactic was cheap and intrusive at best; he would be much more satisfied to learn more about Will from the man himself.

Smitten was not the word that Hannibal would use.

He was merely...intrigued.

x-x-x-x

“This is the best spot!” Abigail declared, plopping down on a nearby tree stump. After searching endlessly – she could tell that her daddy was quickly becoming impatient but she simply couldn’t settle for _less_ than perfect - she had finally found her favorite spot.

Homer had tried helping and although Abigail appreciated it, he just didn’t know the property like she did. She knew where the best shade was; where the branches of the trees cast a cool and warm breeze. They were by the stream that her daddy and she usually went fishing in. The spot was a bit ways away from their usual one but Abigail had gone exploring on her own before with the dogs and she had come upon this.

She just knew that it would be the best place for their picnic. The dogs had followed along willingly – after some heavy insisting from Abigail and Homer – and it was almost as if they remembered the route, nudging Homer and her along towards their destination. They had departed soon after, eagerly exploring the area.

“I like it.” Homer nudged her over and Abigail scooted, making room for him on the stump. “Papa, Mr. Graham, can we stay here?”

Mr. Lecter turned to her daddy, raising an expectant brow. Her daddy didn’t say anything but instead gave a short nod, looking towards the clear view of the stream.

Abigail hummed, her foot tapping against the root of the tree as she studied both her daddy and Mr. Lecter.

Homer’s papa had started to pull out materials from within the basket he had brought along and he looked at ease within the wooded expanse of the land. Even her daddy seemed more relaxed out here; his scowls and grumbling had been reduced to almost nonexistent at the moment.

She elbowed Homer in the side and she heard a pained hiss. “What?” He asked, rubbing at the bruised spot.

Abigail mumbled a quick apology, eyes still on the men in front of her. “They’re getting along better, I think.” She wouldn’t exactly call it getting along but this was the closest she has come to seeing her daddy so peaceful in the presence of Mr. Lecter.

“Papa was really excited. I helped him make the sandwiches. He didn’t even remember to bring _tomatoes_ ,” said Homer gleefully.

Abigail wouldn’t go as far as to say that her daddy was as excited as Mr. Lecter apparently was, but he also hadn’t protested as much as he usually did and the prospect of so much progress was almost enough to make Abigail jump up and squeal.

She didn’t do it though. She was sure that it would only ruin the tranquility.

“Come on.” Abigail stood up and grabbed Homer’s arm, pulling him up.

“Where are we going?” He sounded curious but allowed Abigail to lead him along without protest.

“They need alone time.” It was best to do this now when both her daddy and Homer’s papa were getting along. Knowing her daddy, an opportunity like this would not come again for another eternity.

“Daddy, I’m gonna go show Homer our stream.” She didn’t wait for a reply, knowing that her daddy would probably absentmindedly agree anyway. As soon as they were a few yards away, walking towards the stream, the pack emerged from their exploring, dutifully trailing along behind them.

x-x-x-x

Will’s eyes followed Abigail as she walked away with Homer in tow, animatedly waving her arms around as her mouth moved a mile a minute.

“Will they be safe?” Dr. Hannibal carefully laid out the blanket he had brought along with him. Will glanced at it, wrinkling his nose at the ostentatious display. “Yes, they should be fine. The pack is trained to take care of children.” Specifically Abigail but he was sure that they would gladly take in Homer, keeping a watchful eye on him as well.

The boy seemed to enjoy their company enough, unable to keep himself from sinking his fingers into their fur or scratching a twitching ear. Judging by the happy yips and excited tail wagging, they had quickly grown fond of him.

It was a sweet sight to see.

“This is a beautiful piece of property. How did you come across it?” Will licked his lips, ignoring the intense stare the man was giving him. For a minute, he had forgotten exactly who he was with and he found himself wishing that Abigail hadn’t left.

“Ah, thank you. It was actually before Abigail was born. My wife…” he swallowed thickly, quickly clearing his throat,” we were looking for privacy and we actually came across this land by sheer dumb luck.” They had been stranded nearby after their car had given up on them. Molly had laughed then about fate smiling down upon them. The house had been in bad condition and Will had believed that although it offered the privacy they desired, it would’ve been too much of a hassle to do a complete renovation.

She had been stubborn in the belief that they could manage to make it their own with a few personal touches.

It hadn’t taken much for Will to finally give in.  

And then Abigail came along and she had been perfect – still was, always would be.

Their shoddy house had become a home, with their dogs and their beat-up furniture.

Anything else that happened afterwards still pained him to think about.

“It suits Abigail and I. There’s a peacefulness here that I haven’t been able to find elsewhere.” He didn’t even know why he was telling Dr. Hannibal all of this. Perhaps it was the ambience, so still and relieving. Perhaps it was even the attentive way that the man was looking at him, listening to each word that came out of his mouth.

Will cleared his throat again.

“Anyway. It’s not the most beautiful of places,” at night it became a nightmare, hiding monsters within the spaces of the leaves and the confines of the Earth,” but it _is_ ours and sometimes, I think that’s enough for us both.”

The breeze flew by, tousling his curls and Will swept them back out of habit. He shuffled his feet, looking at the ground and at the expensive leather boots that were close to his own worn shoes. “Homer is a good kid.” He didn’t necessarily like Dr. Hannibal just yet – although he _had_ managed to tone it down enough after a while – but he couldn’t deny that the man had raised Homer excellently. He had never seen Abigail so happy and in turn, it felt as if the weight on his shoulders had lifted, if but only a tiny bit.

It was surprising to see the small smile tugging at Dr. Hannibal’s lips. This was nothing like the polite smiles he often had. It was a smile he hadn’t seen before and he easily recognized the smug pride behind it.

It was…strangely endearing and Will cursed himself for thinking it to be so.

 “I appreciate what your daughter has done for Homer. It has not been easy for him to make friends.” Will had assumed that it hadn’t been; the boy didn’t exactly seem to be the outgoing type. There was nothing wrong with being the quiet one but Will knew perfectly well just how difficult it was to socialize with other people even when he had wanted to.

“Surprisingly, Abigail hasn’t had much luck with friends either.” It was an understatement but it was true enough. “She’s a little…different. I think children can sense that.” Sometimes, children could be cruel to each other for no other reason than to just be cruel.

When Abigail had been younger, just starting out her first year of preschool, she had found herself overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions that weren’t her own. Will had suspected that the problem ran deeper than that – _“Bad eye dada, bad bad bad” –_ and his suspicions had been confirmed when he had been called in after Abigail had suffered from a mild panic attack.

He had blamed himself – and still did, at times – for being the one responsible for it. He could do nothing but run out and buy her a pair of non-prescription glasses, hoping that the glass would be thick enough to prevent it from ever happening again. Hidden behind them, eyes were not as direct as they could be. It was much easier to deal with then and eventually, Abigail stopped complaining about them.

“Children can easily sense what we as adults cannot. They are much more open about their beliefs, be it wrong or right. There is no in between, it just is.” Will nodded, kicking at a rock.

“Is it ridiculous that I wish I could protect her from everything?” He laughed dryly. “I become scared when she even gets a cold.”

“As parents, we do not act within the bounds of rationality. I would be surprised if you did not care. A cold may just be a cold to anyone else but to a parent, it is their pain we feel and when they hurt, _we_ hurt.”

Will turned his head, finally looking at Dr. Hannibal’s face. The man met his gaze, unblinking and solemn. Will’s lips twitched upwards in joined camaraderie and he realized that this was probably one of the only sincere smiles he had given the man.

Something had changed here; he wasn’t exactly sure of what it was just yet but he found himself relaxing in spite of himself, loosening his hold on that last bit of hostility he had stubbornly tried to keep.

He ducked his head, trying to hide away his quickly emerging flush. He wasn’t sure what had just happened or why he was reacting the way that he did but at the moment, he found that he didn’t really care much for the specifics. He held out his hand and Dr. Hannibal didn’t bother with any stupid questions, choosing to hand him the picnic basket instead.

They both got to work, organizing the rest of the containers of food and setting them onto the blanket.

When the children came back, red-faced and panting, giddy and giggling, the dogs nipping at their shins, everything was laid out and ready.

Both Homer and Abigail blinked, surprised by the silence that greeted them. It was not this that caused them to furrow their brows however. They had prepared for brooding or subtle impatience.

They had not expected to feel completely lost when both of the men easily shared secretive smiles although Abigail’s daddy’s smile was hesitant and shy, almost as if he had forgotten the mechanisms necessary to smile, almost as if he was still unsure of whether it was appropriate for him to allow himself an indulgent grin.

But for the first time since they had all come together, the children realized that the tension was finally gone. Abigail and Homer looked at each other with hopeful eyes and this time, Homer was the one to hold out his hand, leading Abigail towards their hard-earned meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was exhausting. Sorry for the delay, I was caught up in a lot of stupid drama and I had lost the desire to write because of it. I'm slowly getting it back though, so hopefully you guys enjoyed this long chapter! 
> 
> Comments are always very much appreciated. <3
> 
> If you'd like to know what Abigail is wearing: [dress](http://usa.alexandalexa.com/navy-heavyweight-jumper-dress) and [shoes](http://usa.alexandalexa.com/ariat-black-iii-paddock-boots-devon)
> 
> Edit: Remember how I said no long chapters? Remember how insistent I was? _hahahahah, I fucked up_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild gore and angst. And tears. Mostly mine but also, yeah.
> 
> _I'm so sorry_
> 
> Unbeta'ed, let me know if there are any mistakes and I will go back and fix them.

“So.” Beverly leered at him and nudged him in the side with her elbow. “How was the picnic?”

“Hi to you too.” He rubbed at his side with a grimace. “How was your day, Will? Oh, it was great Beverly, thank you for asking.” He should’ve expected the interrogation but in the midst of jack’s sudden call and having to drop off Abigail, he had honestly forgotten about Beverly.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Now I know that’s a lie. You never answer when I ask.”

It was true. With Beverly, he knew that any information that he divulged would and could be used against him in any given situation. Even with Abigail it was the same. He had to be careful about what he told her just in case she decided to “share” with Bev.

He lived a hard and exhausting life, having to juggle his many secrets with too many perceptive eyes always watching him.

“The picnic was fine.” It was better than he had expected and he couldn’t say that he didn’t have a nice time because then that would’ve been a lie and he was too exhausted for that. “The kids had a great time.” It was a bit of an understatement; Homer and Abigail had enjoyed the picnic to the fullest, at least.

“Oh? And did _you_ have a great time? Did Dr. Lecter?” She smirked.

Will snorted. “I may not be as averse to him as I was before.” And that was all he was going to admit to her. He wasn’t stupid enough to freely give her new material to blackmail him with.

“That’s practically a love confession,” Beverly cackled, rubbing her hands together with far too much glee than was deemed appropriate. “Should we start wedding dress shopping? I _am_ going to be your maid of honor, right?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “No. You don’t deserve it.” Sometimes the best way to deal with Beverly was to just go along with her.

“I deserve it plenty, having to put up with your broody face for years! That’s definitely something that’s going on my resume.”

“If that’s what you deem an achievement then I’m worried about the state of such a resume.” He nodded in greeting as he passed familiar faces along the way. “Do you have any idea why we’re even here?” He could make guesses as to why – a fresh body, a fresh crime scene, all in a day’s work – but that was as far as he could get. Jack hadn’t specified and Will suspected that he hadn’t been sure about it either.

“Jack didn’t really say and I just got here too,” she said, picking at the beanie resting atop of her head. “You would think that people would take a break from murdering each other with how freezing it has been lately.” 

“No rest for the wicked,” muttered Will as he rubbed his gloved hands together in an attempt to warm them up. They came upon a small clearing in the woods, the regular forensics team gathered around. He spotted the tall and familiar figure of Jack Crawford as he barked orders at a few unfortunate souls.

The crunch of the leaves beneath their feet was loud and they quickly caught Jack’s attention. Will’s forehead crinkled, eyes narrowed as the man made his way towards them, diverting them from their original path.

“I think it would be best if you sit this one out.” It sounded like a suggestion but came across as more of a demand. Jack never asked; he always commanded.

The fact that Jack had told _him_ to sit this out made him even more suspicious. For as long as he had worked with Jack he could count on one hand the amount of times that the man had told him to take a time out. “What is it?”

Jack fidgeted, looking pointedly to Beverly. Apparently catching the hint, she left to join Price and Zeller, albeit with some reluctance and a backwards glance. Jack blocked to intercept him when he tried moving past him.

“Jack. Tell me _why_ you feel the need to bench me.” He was becoming more and more agitated with each dodged attempt. Jack was hiding something from him and the need to find out what it was, was growing by the minute. The man had called him here and now he was telling him that he shouldn’t be here; it was enough to alert him that the issue was personal.

“You’re not coming in on this, Graham. That’s an order.” Jack set his feet apart, shoulders pulled back and chin held high; the typical alpha male posturing but Will was used to it by now and it no longer had any effect on him.

Will set his jaw and glanced behind Jack at the other people who were trying to pretend that they weren’t listening in. He turned his eyes back onto Jack, eyes blazing bright with defiance. “People are dying, Jack. People _have_ died and if I can help prevent that in some way, you won’t be able to stop me.” He pushed past Jack, ignoring his calls as he marched over to where Beverly was kneeling over a corpse.

Her eyes widened as she fumbled with her supplies and she tried shielding the body from him but it was too late; one glimpse was all it took in order for him to know.

It was a woman’s body, nude, pale and cold save the dried rivulets of blood that had trickled out through the gaping hole in her stomach. She had been cut from underneath the breastbone to pelvis – a long cut with the intention to gut - and the skin and meat and bones were pulled apart like sheets of paper, revealing that the organs had been scooped out with a ferocity that required unmerciful brutality.

The woman had been alive. She had screamed despite the fact that no one could hear her. She had screamed in terror until her voice had gone hoarse and she had sobbed, begging for a mercy to a man who had no sympathy and only gleeful in his torturing of her.

Will knew all of this without having to look at her for more than a minute. He had seen this before, years ago and the sight was one that he would never forget no matter how hard he tried or no matter how much time passed by.

Bile rose in his throat, burning the back of his nose as he turned to the side, upchucking the breakfast he had spent little time on onto the ground. He briefly wondered how Abigail would have felt about the waste and he laughed to himself hysterically. The acrid scent and taste of vomit was strong and he gagged. Knees bent and hands holding onto them for support, he panted, beads of cool sweat collecting on his forehead as he tried to get ahold of himself.

“Will!” He could vaguely hear his name being called but it was washed out in the sound of white noise, loud static and his heartbeat thumping harshly in his head. A sharp pain started in his temples and radiated outwards.

Strong hands helped him to the ground and it was then that he realized that he was had started shaking violently. When he reached up to touch his face, he could only stare blankly as his hands came back wet from the tears that he hadn’t noticed until then.

_“Will, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay...”_

And he knew but he couldn’t truly comprehend the words, lost in memories of a similar corpse he had found on that fateful night so long ago. He could still remember the blood on his hands and how he had desperately tried to close the wound, to successfully stop the bleeding to no avail.

He could still remember the look of terror frozen on her face, mouth open wide as she screamed and screamed and no one had heard; _he_ hadn’t heard. She had screamed for so long for someone to save her, for _him_ to save her and he hadn’t even known; he had left her alone with a monster.  

Nightmares that constantly plagued him afterwards, the feeling of desperation and loss, the unbearable pain in his heart that never completely went away.

And he could only shake in silence as he remembered, memories rushing through his head like a horror movie that couldn’t be turned off, forcing him to witness it over and over again no matter how many times he screamed.

Because at that moment, although he hadn’t wanted to, he had seen it. It was inevitable and he had slipped into the scene as he so often did, usually detached but not anymore. He had seen the way that Molly had cried as he had sliced into her with a curious fascination, had seen his hands dig into her body and feeling the sick squelch of her insides as he ripped her open.

There had been no peace for her in death and in turn, no peace for him since then.

x-x-x-x

“Are you sure that you’re fine?” Jack asked, his voice surprisingly soft and his words careful almost as if he didn’t want to provoke him into another panic attack. They had rode in silence ever since he had pushed Will into his car and stated that he would be the one taking him back home.

Will hadn’t argued, hadn’t even found the strength to voice any protests as he usually would. He stared out the window, eyes dark and emotionless. “I’m fine.”

“Goddammit, Will, you’re not fine!” Jack slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel in frustration. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

The one that Will had allowed to get away, the one who had not only stolen her away from him but most especially, Abigail. “He’s mocking me. Wants me to know that he’s still out there, wants me to remember what he did to her.” He wanted Will to experience it once more down to the goriest detail. 

He wanted to remind Will that it had been his fault; that if it hadn’t been for Will intervening, if he had simply not taken the case, that Molly would’ve still been alive.

But he was wrong; because Will had never forgotten. He had never stopped blaming himself and he was aware of it _every day_. He had been blinded by tragedy and he had not only been at fault for Molly’s suffering but he had also failed at catching him and putting an end to him as he should’ve done.

He had been elusive but Will could’ve done it. However, he couldn’t even go near the case much less place himself in the same position so as to experience it firsthand once more and in turn he had gotten away.

The killer had disappeared shortly afterwards, taking with him all the evidence and he hadn’t been heard of since; until now.

“Why now?” He didn’t know. Perhaps he had simply grown bored; perhaps he couldn’t resist the pull of bloodlust any longer. “And why you?” Will didn’t know the answer to that either. It was possible that he had left such an impression upon the killer that he had grown attached in his obsession but that still begged the question, _why now?_

Will didn’t know; the possibilities were endless and he was no more informed now than he was then.

“We’ll catch him this time, Will,” Jack promised, determination coloring his tone. “In the meantime, I believe that it’s best if we get protection for you and Abigail.”

Will clenched his jaw and gave him a short nod. Had it been just him, he would’ve refused the offer. But it wasn’t just him; it was also Abigail and Will would die before he let anything happen to her. It could just be a false alarm but Will didn’t want to take any chances when it came down to Abigail’s safety.

“Alana will pick her up from school,” they finally came to a stop and Jack parked the car,” take the time to compose yourself before she gets home; you will worry her otherwise.”

He knew that Jack was right. If Abigail saw him in his current state, she would know that something was wrong and she would pester him until she found out. Will had been careful in hiding this from her and he planned to keep doing so; he didn’t want anything to taint the innocent memories that she had of Molly, even if she didn’t have very many to begin with anyway.

He opened the car door with a mumbled ‘thanks’. As he walked towards the house, he was stopped by Jack’s words as he started pulling out of the driveway. “We _will_ catch him.” But it sounded more like a reiterated promise, one he had heard many times before. The sincerity behind it had dulled over time and there was no truth behind the flimsy words; after a certain amount of time of repeating it, it had lost its meaning.

Will said nothing and continued his trek towards the house. 

x-x-x-x

“Where’s daddy?” Abigail furrowed her brows as auntie Alana drove up by the curb. She peeked into the car, wondering if he was inside.

“He’ll meet you at home. He got a little caught up with work.” Her auntie smiled but Abigail could tell that it was slightly forced. She was tapping her finger against the steering wheel impatiently. “How was school?”

Abigail bit her lip; she had been feeling uneasy the whole day and there was a heavy feeling in her stomach. She didn’t tell auntie Alana any of this. “It was fun. We made masks!” She didn’t pull it out as she usually would’ve and she wasn’t sure why but right now didn’t feel like the time for lightheartedness. “Did daddy catch more bad guys?”

She had noticed that he had gotten a call earlier in the morning and that usually only happened when he had to deal with finding criminals. Abigail thought it was the coolest job ever and she wanted to be just like her daddy when she grew up; she wanted to run after bad guys and put them away so that they would never hurt anyone else, most especially her daddy.

“He’s…” her aunt hesitated, her hands tightening around the steering wheel,” of course.” She pursed her lips, almost as if to stop herself from saying anything else. “Beverly told me that you went on a picnic; how did it go?”

Abigail grinned at that, remembering how much fun she had with daddy and the Lecters. “Yup, it was great. Mr. Lecter made a lot of yummy food and daddy was even nice to Mr. Lecter even though he says that he doesn’t like him.” Her daddy could deny it all he wanted to but she knew that somehow, the tension had thawed. He had even smiled at a few comments that Mr. Lecter had made and if that wasn’t progress than she didn’t know what else it was.

“That sounds great, I can’t wait to meet them,” said her auntie. She sounded a bit distracted but Abigail didn’t let that deter her. “Mhm, you’re going to love them!” She couldn’t wait to introduce Homer to auntie Katz and Alana; then they could be one big happy family and their lives would be complete and her daddy and Homer’s papa would be _so_ happy.

Although Abigail loved her aunt, she still wasn’t her daddy and it was always him that Abigail looked forward to seeing after school. At times he couldn’t make it and aunt Alana picked her up but those times were few in between and her daddy was almost always there waiting for her as soon as she got out of class.

She wondered what was important enough to keep him busy but followed it with the fact that she knew that crime had no curfew or limit and so therefore, neither did he.

However, she still couldn’t stop the disappointment she had felt when she had seen that it was not her daddy who had been behind the steering wheel.

She clutched tightly onto her backpack, fiddling with the zippers as the heaviness in her stomach grew.

It was fine. At least she would see him when she got home.

x-x-x-x

“Daddy!” He heard the thud of small feet against the hardwood floor and then a blur crashed into his back, small arms wrapping around his waist. Will chuckled, a small smile finding its way onto his face. With difficulty – as Abigail held on tightly and refused to let him go - he turned around to face Abigail. She grinned up at him happily. “I missed you!”

“And I missed you.” Will bent down to wrap his arms around the back of Abigail’s thighs, lifting her up. She squealed and her arms went around the back of his neck. It wasn’t often that he held her like this as she was much too old for it but every now and then, they both indulged in the closeness that it brought them.

Will needed that reassurance more than anything right now.

His smile widened, his heart growing lighter at the sight of the beaming smile that she gave him. “Where’s Alana?”

“Right here.” He looked up, now barely noticing Alana’s presence. She nodded at him but said nothing else, her eyes studying him intently. Will shifted, uncomfortable with the attention but allowed her to do as she pleased.

Apparently she had been told the news and was now worried about him although there was no need for her concern. His last episode had passed and since then he had time to think about how he was going to deal with the recent situation.

“Thank you for giving Abigail a ride.” He looked down at Abigail expectedly and realization dawned on her face. “Thank you, auntie Alana!”

“It’s always a pleasure.” She smiled although it didn’t exactly reach her eyes. “Abigail, can I have some time with your daddy? I’d like to talk to him; I promise that I’ll give him back right away.”

Abigail huffed as Will let her down. “Fine.” She walked off, throwing Will backward glances as she did so. Winston followed along behind her, tail wagging. As the sound of footsteps faded away along with the clicking of Winston’s nails against the floorboards, Alana approached him with determination in her step.

“Jack told you.” He had expected as much.

“It was Beverly, actually. Jack called me five minutes after that.”  She rested her hip against the edge of the counter. “I think that talking about it will really help.”

Will snorted, going back to the sandwich he had been preparing for Abigail. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never do,” her voice lowered to a whisper,” Will, it’s been almost seven years and you have _never_ wanted to talk about it. I let it go before because of Abigail but now it’s not something that you can just ignore.”

“What do you want me to say? That I still think about it every day? That I will _never_ stop blaming myself for what happened?” His voice rose with each word and he caught himself before it could turn into a screaming match. He didn’t want to alert Abigail that something was wrong. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeated.

Alana grabbed his arm. “It is _not_ your fault! You can’t honestly believe that!” Tugging at his arm, she used her other hand to cup his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Please, Will, tell me that you don’t believe that.” Her eyes were sad and she looked to be on the verge of tears. Will couldn’t look at her like this and he turned his eyes away, unable to answer her question when he knew that she wouldn’t like his response.

“Oh, Will.” Her hand dropped and she cleared her throat. “Molly wouldn’t have liked this.”

He chuckled dryly. Molly would’ve torn him a new one if she had seen the way he was acting. She had no patience for his self-loathing and often berated him about it. “No, she wouldn’t have.”

“Then why do you insist on doing this to yourself? Will, this isn’t healthy, please –“

“Daddy?”

His shoulders tensed and he turned back around, busying himself with the sandwich he had left unfinished. “I’m making you a sandwich, I’ll be finished in a few minutes,” he said, addressing Abigail. He heard Alana’s soft sigh, knowing that for now, their conversation would have to wait for another time.

“It’s getting late. I’ll see you both soon.” It sounded as if she was talking to both him and Abigail but Will was confident that her words were more or less directed towards him.

“Bye!” Abigail chirped up as her aunt gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. The door opened and closed and Will relaxed, already feeling calmer without Alana’s presence around.

“Is everything okay?” There was a hint of confusion behind the question. She had noticed that something was amiss but she had not yet figured out what it was and Will was grateful for this small bit of comfort, at least.

“Everything’s fine. Want to help me finish making this?” He gestured towards the sandwich with a raised eyebrow as Abigail came to stand beside him, standing on her tip toes to take a closer look. She hummed in agreement,” Can we add bacon?”

“I don’t see why not.” He lifted her up again, this time setting her down on the countertop so they stood face to face.  

“Can we eat ice cream for dessert?” She smiled cheekily.

“Don’t push your luck, kid.” He chuckled, ruffling her hair, ignoring her half-hearted protests about messing up her ponytail although it was already lopsided. “How about a cookie?” He offered.

She pouted. “Fine, deal. Shake on it?” Will chuckled, grabbing her small outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Very well, daddy. Let’s get some bacon on this baby!” Her sock clad feet bumped against the bottom cabinets as she tried to contain her excitement.

The love he felt when he saw that smile, so carefree and innocent, was enough to almost make him speechless.

There was nothing that he loved more than Abigail.

He thought back to the gun resting in the drawer in his beside table, safely locked within the wooded confines, just loaded and waiting to be used.  

He’d do _anything_ to keep her safe. It was an unvoiced promise from him to her. He hadn’t been able to save Molly but he would be damned if he allowed anyone else to even come close to his daughter.

x-x-x-x

Abigail awoke to the whining by her bed. She came to slowly, eyes blinking up at the ceiling, still tucked into bed just as her daddy had left her earlier. Turning her head and with narrowed eyes, she glanced at the two dogs resting by her bed. The room was dark and the only light available came from the nightlight, casting a dim glow. She then noticed that they were sitting upright, heads cocked to the side. One started walking around the room, pawing at the closed door desperately.

“Buster?” Both canines turned their heads towards her, warily approaching her bed. “What’s wrong?” She sat up with a yawn, slightly puzzled by the pack’s behavior. They had been just fine earlier and she couldn’t understand why they were acting this way now.

Pulling back the covers, she stumbled out of bed in a daze. She walked across the room to the door, opening it and peeking behind to see if there was anything out there that could’ve been the cause. When she saw nothing, only the silhouettes of the furniture in the dark, she opened it wider and stood out in the hallway. Both dogs followed her, nudging her towards her daddy’s room.

The door was ajar and she pushed it open. The rest of the pack was huddled around the bed, whining with open distress.

“Daddy?” She squinted, trying to make out the writhing form on the bed. Her daddy was tossing and turning in his sleep, his shirt soaked through with sweat and hair matted to his forehead. He was mumbling words she couldn’t really make out. “Daddy,” she raised her voice, hoping to catch his attention.

When he didn’t respond, she hurried to the bed, almost tripping in her haste. She jumped onto the bed, getting tangled in the sheets but not caring for how they tightened around her ankles. “Daddy!” She yelled, her hands reaching down to grab his face.

Something was wrong and her daddy wasn’t waking up no matter how loud she yelled.

With each failed attempt at waking him up, only resulting in further tossing and pained moaning, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe, her chest tightening.

“Daddy, please…” she cried, tears now streaming down her face freely as she tugged and pulled at his shirt, her small fists pounding against his chest. “ _Please please please, wake up, daddy please!_

Nothing she did was working and she felt as if she was losing him with each passing second. She had never seen this before, not from her daddy and she was absolutely terrified, feeling so helpless and lost in a situation that she had no idea how to deal with.

With hiccupped sobs, she fell onto his chest despite his thrashing. “Don’t leave me please, daddy, please don’t!” She wailed. She didn’t know what she would do without her daddy; he was her whole world, he was everything she knew.

The dogs around them cried along with her, sensing her anguish. She babbled words to him, begging him to open his eyes, to say something, anything, _to just wake up please_.

A pained groan and then, “Abigail?” In her distress, she hadn’t noticed that the writhing had stopped and that body beneath her had gone still. Abigail could say nothing, couldn’t even speak past her cries, could only cling on tightly to her daddy, seeking reassurance that he was really okay and that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

“I’m sorry, _I’m so sorry_.” Strong arms wrapped around her, solid and real and Abigail rubbed her wet face against the harsh cotton of her daddy’s damp shirt. Lips pressed against her forehead, quietly mumbling words of apologies. She thought that she could feel wetness against her face, tears that were not her own but she wasn’t certain. She had no strength to look up to confirm it, only wanting to take in her daddy’s familiar and musky scent until this was all a distant memory.

She shook in his arms as he sung to her, voice cloaked with pain and choking on certain words.

She sung along with him through her tears, fingers gripping him tightly, never wanting to let him go in case he floated away from her to a place where she couldn’t follow him, just like mommy.  

_Don’t leave me daddy, please don’t, please please don’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh. *cries to herself*
> 
> If you guys haven't noticed by now, I have made this into a series. I know that some of you are probably like "BUT WHERE'S THE PICNIC SCENE", I promise that you guys will get that but not in this story. It will be written and posted separately. This story needs to move along at a faster pace (otherwise I'd just keep it going forever and I doubt you guys would want that, so) and so I'm focusing more on the actual plot. I'm totally still gonna do cute little scenes, just not fully detailed ones unless it's to progress the story further along. 
> 
> My question to you guys is: would you guys want me to stop at the picnic scene or should I also post other little extra stories - stuff like cute shenanigans and inside looks into when Abby and Homer were babies? Which option appeals more to you? Because I have so many ideas but I'll only do it if other people are interested in it.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/). Or y'know, come to cuss me out and curse me, I don't know, whatever floats your boat.


	10. Chapter 10

Homer glanced up furtively at Abigail. She stared down at the ground in a daze, the area around her eyes red; her face was blotchy and Homer suspected that it had nothing to do with the cold.

He gnawed at his lip, uncertain of what to say. He tossed words around in his head, trying to figure out the best approach. Finally, he settled on the safest route. “Are you okay?” She shifted but showed no other sign of acknowledgement. She didn’t say anything and Homer was starting to think that she hadn’t heard him. He wondered whether he should ask again but didn’t want to push either.

Eventually, she nodded. “Yeah.” She sniffed, rubbing her red nose with a gloved hand. Her fingers flexed around the strap of her book bag as she continued shuffling her feet.

“Are you sure?” She certainly didn’t seem like it and it truly caused him discomfort to see her like this. She was usually so vibrant and excited; now, she seemed downtrodden and broken. It caused him pain and he had to stop himself from reaching out to tackle her into a hug. Judging by the defensive way that she was holding herself right now, his sudden gesture could turn out to be unwanted after all. He knew that she hated being thought of as weak although he often told her that he thought she was one of the strongest people in the world.

She hesitated, clenching her fists as she contemplated whether to answer his question honestly. Her bottom lip trembled and she sniffed again as she took off her glasses, wiping at her eyes as she tried to hide her emerging tears. “Daddy…”

Homer’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Did something happen to him?” he asked, hoping that she would answer back in the negative. He had really grown to like Mr. Graham and he would be devastated if anything happened to him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted morosely. “He was having nightmares last night. Really _bad_ ones I think because he couldn’t wake up. I was yelling and yelling and he didn’t want to _wake up_ no matter how much I screamed.” Homer could see the anguish on her face and he gave in, wrapping her up into a loose hug, letting her know that she could pull away if she didn’t feel comfortable. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“I don’t know what to do,” Abigail mumbled sulkily into his shoulder. “I want to help but I don’t know _how_.” She sounded on the verge of tears again and Homer reached up, giving her head a gentle pat, albeit it was a bit awkward to do in the position that they were in.  

He wasn’t sure whether he could help either. He suspected that neither of them could; this was something bigger than them and Homer was at a loss, unsure of what to do or how to even offer his help. Biting his lip, he absentmindedly stroked Abigail’s hair to stop himself from resorting back to his bad habit of picking at his nails. Frustrated to no end, when the people he cared about were hurting and he could do absolutely nothing. How _useless_.

Realization suddenly dawned on his face and he looked to Abigail hopefully. “Do you think that…maybe…papa could help?”

His papa knew more than they possibly could. He was a _doctor_ and if there was anything wrong with Mr. Graham, then surely he could find out what it was? Wasn’t that what doctors did, anyway? Make things _better_?

He knew for certain that his papa was the best. He could do anything which meant that he could definitely help Abigail’s daddy.

This wasn't even about pushing the two men together anymore. Of course it was something they had planned before but they had not predicted that something like this would happen. As much as Homer wanted to continue, he knew that now was not the time. First, they had to fix the problem and then, and only then, could they consider picking up where they left off.

“Oh! Maybe he could!” Abigail clutched at his arm, shaking him slightly. “Ask him!” Homer nodded, clenching his fists in determination as he started thinking of the many ways that he could start the conversation with his papa. Mr. Graham needed help and since neither Abigail nor him could give it, then he could only hope that his papa would deem it a worthy enough cause.

Although…he had a feeling that his papa would.

He wasn’t clairvoyant and he wasn’t particularly skilled in deciphering the intentions of other people but something told him that his papa would definitely want to get involved.

x-x-x-x

 “You really shouldn’t be here,” Beverly muttered quietly, peering up at him reproachfully. “You should be at home, looking after your dogs or something else that isn’t _this_. I don’t even know what you did to make Jack allow you access.”

Will shrugged, making sure to not mention that he had played on the man’s sense of justice. This was someone who was not only a threat to him and Abigail but to other people who crossed his path. Will was the closest they could get to catching this killer and Jack knew that. “I’m fine now.” He really wasn’t but any time wasted was on him and he would rather not have to carry that with him for the rest of his life.

Beverly huffed, crossing her arms in front of her. She didn’t look very pleased by his explanation but thankfully didn’t push the issue. She jerked her head back, motioning to the lab before walking off towards it.

He knew that he needed time to compose himself. His hands were shaking slightly and he wrapped them around his wrists, intent on stopping them before it could become more noticeable. He pushed his hair back, taking a deep breath and hoping that the bags under his eyes weren’t darker than they usually were.

His steps were tentative and careful until he had finally reached the lab. Zeller’s and Price’s voices were the first thing he heard, bickering over a botched print. They stopped when he came into view and looked at him warily, almost as if he were a ticking bomb.

He sighed mentally. “Don’t look at me like that.” He didn’t need anyone’s pity nor did he need anyone tip-toeing around him either. Instead, he quietly approached the body in the middle of the room. Beverly was picking at a few white threads with a tweezer and she chanced a glance up at him but swiftly resumed her task. Will knew that she was still likely keeping an eye out just in case; she had the habit of being too perceptive at the worst of times.

The only way to get through this was to look at it detachedly; anything else and Will risked another panic attack and he especially risked Jack kicking him off of the case for good. The man was pulling enough strings as it was, Will was too involved and normally, this was completely against protocol.

For once Will had to thank his empathy; it gave him a free – albeit given reluctantly – pass.

“How’s Abigail?” Brian approached him from behind and leaned against the wall, watching him with curious eyes.

Will’s eyes coldly studied the mutilated corpse, taking in details that he hadn’t had the time to do before. “She’s fine.” She had clung to him all night until her tears had dried and even then, as she fell into a fitful rest, she gripped his shirt in her fist tightly. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, afraid that he would return back to the land of nightmares. The last thing Will wanted was for Abigail to experience that again and if that meant depriving himself of sleep, then so be it.

He cleared his throat, looking away from the body. “We’re all fine,” he said, slowly, just in case anybody else hadn’t understood. “What do you have so far?” He asked in return, desperate to change the subject. Brian looked at him with knowing eyes but then turned away, moving to stand beside Price who was intently studying a file. It didn’t fool him for a second; he knew that he was most likely paying attention to the conversation. “Nothing concrete so far.”

Nobody asked him to take a closer look and he was slightly relieved. He could barely even stomach being here as it was; taking a deeper look, diving into the psyche of _this_ killer would be enough to reduce him to near paralysis.

To feel this weak was frustrating and this wasn’t something that he could deal with by going to shooting range nor was it something that he could take care of directly – and it was truly _this_ that bothered him most of all. The source was nowhere nearby and until Will found it, there was nothing else that he could do to help deal with his anger and concern.

He knew that eventually, he would have to delve into the dark depths of twisted motivations – or maybe even lack of. It was why they even allowed him back on the case in the first place. However, it was an idea that he had to grow accustomed to.

It certainly wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t expect it to be.

“You know, you should take Abby out. Just you and her, spend some time bonding.” Beverly suggested. “You’re both under too much stress and it might help. There’s nothing that you can do for now, no, stop,” she glared at him when he opened his mouth to interject,” _stop_. I know that you want to help and believe us; _we’ll_ do anything to catch this asshole. But right now, you’re not helping anybody by walking around like a zombie. You look like shit. You need to get yourself under control unless you want Abigail finding out.” She didn’t mince her words and Will sagged in defeat.

Beverly took no prisoners; she was absolutely ruthless in her arguments and Will found himself reluctantly agreeing.

He was doing nothing just standing here. He wanted to help but in his current condition, he couldn’t even help _himself_ much less anyone else. He nodded, fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket. “You’re right.” Beverly was a pain in his ass but goddammit, she was _right_. She beamed up at him, smug pride evident on her face.

“You bet your fine ass that I am. Get out of here. Brian, Jimmy and I will try to see what else we can get out of her,” she motioned towards the body,” and we’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

Will gave her a small smile. He turned to Zeller and Price, giving them a nod, showing his appreciation. Each step that he took out of the lab, made his head feel lighter. There was still the lingering darkness that lurked in the shadows but for now, he resolutely pushed it away.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think that just because he could ignore it, that it meant that it would easily disappear. But he did at least know his own limits and before, he wouldn’t have cared for pushing past them.

After Abigail had been born, he had understood that this was something that he needed to change; he needed to stop being reckless and focus on his actions and how they would affect her most of all.  

Anything else shouldn’t matter. Nothing else really did.

x-x-x-x

“You know that you can still talk to me, right?” Will asked as he and Abigail made their way to the parking lot. “I know that I scared you but that doesn’t mean that you have to walk on eggshells around me.” Abigail hadn’t spoken much to him at all, save for only a few clipped sentences. He had let her have her time, knowing that what she had experienced the night before was definitely not something that a child could easily forget. However, now she looked at him with worried eyes, almost as if she was prepared for him to have another episode in the middle of the street.

“I know,” she mumbled quietly, gripping the straps of her book bag tightly in her hand. “But daddy, I’m still _scared_.” Will sighed and reached down to grab her hand, stopping her in her tracks. He knelt down in front of her, making sure that she was looking down at him. Her lip trembled from the effort of holding back her sobs and her eyelashes were wetly clumped together from earlier tears.

He brushed back a stray lock of hair, holding her hands in his own. With a gentle kiss against the small knuckles, he considered the best way to reassure her once and for all.

“I realize that what happened last night is not something that I can truly explain since I don’t actually know the explanation for it myself.” He had his suspicions which he assumed were probably accurately placed, however, this was not something he would willingly share with her for fear that it would make everything _much_ worse. “But I’m here and you’re here and that should be enough for now. I’ve told you before, haven’t I?”

Abigail hesitated, nodding slowly.

“There’s nothing in the world that will ever stop me from coming back to you. Ever.” He tapped her nose and she wrinkled it with a sniffle. “We can’t predict what will happen tomorrow or next week, or the next year, but we can at least make sure to live life as much as we can, regardless. You and me forever, kid, remember that.”

She pursed her lips and still looked to be on the verge of tears but she nodded again, walking forward to close the distance with a tight hug. Will wrapped his arms around her, returning the earnest embrace. After a minute, she pulled away, wiping at her eyes with a determined frown. “Let’s go home, daddy.”

She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the car and Will followed along, letting her take the lead, wanting to at least give her this small gesture of assurance.

First, he buckled her in, making sure that she was secure and comfortable. Throwing her book bag into the back seat – it was getting heavier and heavier each year, did they make the kids carry rocks around now, _Jesus_ – he closed her door and moved forward to open his own door.

There was the distinctive sound of clicking and a sudden flash and Will reached for the gun that he usually never found the need to carry with him. A feminine laugh and then he was faced with Freddie Lounds, red curls framing her smug face. “Now, if I didn’t know any better, I would ask if that was a gun or if you’re just _that_ happy to see me.” She held her camera up in front of her and snapped a shot of his face.

“You have no right being here.” Will stood in front of Abigail’s door, shielding her from Freddie.

“I’m not exactly doing anything illegal, this is after all, public property,” she shrugged, tucking away her camera into her bag. “You’re a very difficult man to track down, Special Agent Graham so pardon my,” her lips curled around the word mockingly,” taking the liberty.”

The last time that Will had been confronted with Lounds, it had been on the same night of Molly’s murder. She had acted coy, keen eyes taking in the crime scene with a feverish fascination.

She had been a constant pain in his ass – and not even an acceptable one, like Beverly - ever since although he had managed to dodge her successfully and thwart her attempts of cornering him for further information. She was discourteous and had no care for anything other than her stories.

Dangerously tenacious and desperately curious, she never knew when to give up. He could already guess her reason for seeking him out now.

He just hadn’t thought that she would’ve actually approached him _here_ of all places.

“Now is not the time,” he said, refusing to move from his spot. As of yet, Freddie had never actually targeted Abigail with her stories but he couldn’t take the risk.

“I agree.” Her eyes glanced behind him and although he was sure that she couldn’t see Abigail, he knew that Freddie knew exactly who he was shielding from her. “Either way, I think I’ve already got everything I need.” She shook her bag at him. “No doubt that I’ll see you again soon Mr. Graham.”

Will watched her walk away, his fists clenched tightly by his side. If Freddie Lounds so much as even caused any trouble for Abigail – although he hoped that even she wouldn’t be as to cruel as to endanger a child – then he could guarantee that their next meeting would not end pleasantly for her.

“Daddy?” He was jerked out of his thoughts at the muffled voice, a tentative knock against the glass of the window. Taking a deep breath, he tried pushing away any more unsavory thoughts lest Abigail saw them displayed across his face.

Once in the car, he met Abigail’s worried face with a smile that he hoped came across as reassuring. She didn’t seem very convinced but didn’t ask although he could clearly see that she wanted to.

The rest of the ride home was spent in silence, both of them too consumed by other thoughts to bother with any trivial conversation.

x-x-x-x

“Papa?” Small fingers fidgeted with a notebook, bending and folding the corners of the pages.

“Yes, Homer?” Hannibal gave him a side glance, curiosity brimming in sanguine eyes as he took in the nervous gesture.

“Um…” he started uncertainly,” doctors help people, right?” He stopped his fidgeting, instead choosing to look up beseechingly at his papa.

Hannibal nodded slowly, waiting for Homer to continue.

“Then…can you help Mr. Graham?” He studied his papa’s suddenly tensed back anxiously. He turned to face him fully, eyes dark and unreadable.

“And what is wrong with Mr. Graham?” he asked, a small frown tugging at his lips.

Homer shrugged; he didn’t know how to really explain it. He wasn’t _sick_ , not by what Abigail told him, but there was still something _wrong_ and he just didn’t know how to put it into words that his papa could understand. “Abby was scared; Mr. Graham has really bad nightmares.” It was simple and to the point; anything else was Abigail’s business, and most especially, Mr. Graham’s.

“Hm.” He made a noise of consideration, finger tapping against the counter. “I will talk to him.” It didn’t sound exactly like a promise but Homer knew that it was still an answer. His papa looked distracted and didn’t spare Homer a glance as the boy jumped out of his seat, walking to his room to think of more possible outcomes, hoping that his papa would pull through after all. The Grahams depended on him and even Homer was starting to feel a tightness in his chest at the thought of the situation worsening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that it's so short, just trying to get things moving along and I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. Hopefully the next update will be up sooner because I truly do enjoy this story and hate not being able to update it as quickly as I wish I could. 
> 
> I promise that we'll get more happy times in the next few chapters!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/), I promise that I don't bite!


	11. Chapter 11

Will really wasn’t all that surprised to find Dr. Hannibal waiting outside on his porch. It wasn’t necessarily that he had been waiting for him. It was just that…he had felt a certain heaviness in his stomach all day that usually foretold of oncoming problems – like unwanted visitors.

So, Dr. Lecter, dressed in yet another plaid suit –  _really_ , Will was going to have to have a serious talk with the man sooner or later about this – and waiting for him patiently with Winston lying at his feet?

Yeah. Not so much of a surprise.

What  _was_  a surprise was that the man was actually petting Winston, all traces of his earlier hesitation completely gone.

Will stopped in his tracks, the rest of the pack at his heels. He hefted the cooler full of fish he had caught earlier, onto his side. With a shake of his head, he continued up onto the porch, bypassing the bemused man. The door opened with a slight  _snick_  and Will cocked his head to the side, gesturing for the doctor to follow him.

Thankfully, he took the hint and followed right behind him as Will headed to the kitchen to stash away the fish. After a moment of silence, “I’m going to go ahead and assume that Abigail told Homer and Homer told you.” It truly was so predictable.

“Abigail was worried according to Homer. They asked for my help and I found that I could not deny them.”

Will groaned. “Of course you couldn’t.” He turned to open a cupboard. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water, please.”

He filled up two glasses of water, giving one to Dr. Hannibal with a considering look. “You really didn’t have to come out all this way.” He didn’t have to do anything else at all even if the kids had asked it of him. He felt slightly discomfited by the fact that he had made Abigail so worried that she had decided to resort to other measures despite his constant reassurances that the problem was now nonexistent.

“I had no patients today and thought it best to see you as soon as I could.” The doctor took a delicate sip of water and Will withheld the urge to roll his eyes.

Will had many options. The most prominent two being, either forcefully kick Dr. Hannibal out of his home or, the other one being, that he give in and accept it. He thought of Abigail’s blotchy face and hopeful eyes and knew that there could be no other choice. “Fine.”

Without another word, he led the doctor into the living room and took a seat, gesturing for the man to do the same.  He took the seat in front of him – he smirked at the hesitation he saw on his face when he looked down to see how dog hair had managed to successfully cling on to each and every cushion – and placed his glass of water down on the nearby coffee table.

“Let’s get this over with Dr. Hannibal.” The other man threw him an exasperated look at the continued use of the title but didn’t address it.

“Very well. The best way to go about this is to be straightforward, so please, Will. I ask that you answer honestly.” The doctor sat stiffly, one leg crossed over the other and his clasped hands resting on his knee.

Will nodded to confirm that he understood.

“Homer did not tell me much as I suspect that neither him nor Abigail know the details. However, from what I was able to gather, you are having nightmares?” At Will’s nod, he continued. “Your fears. What are they?”

With a sigh, Will ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s a pretty lengthy list, doctor.” There was a difficulty in acknowledging them and most times, he could get away with it. His main ones were more of a problem as they plagued him every waking hour. “When it comes down to it, I suppose that most of them stem from the fear of not being able to protect Abigail.”

Just like he couldn’t protect Molly.

Dr. Hannibal hummed thoughtfully, prompting Will to continue on in his explanation. “I just…” He didn’t know whether he could mention  _why_  he was so scared. Every parent feared for their child – well, any respectable parent at least – but most times, the fears were ridiculous although they felt so much bigger than what they were.

When Abigail had gotten her first skinned knee, Will had panicked. Even with Abigail’s stifled whimpers – because even at that age she was strong, refusing to cry whenever hurt – Will’s concern had been greater than her reaction. He had swept her into his arms, racing towards the house and running all around in search of the first aid kit. Her knee had been bleeding sluggishly but it hadn’t been a big wound, just something that could’ve been dealt with in no longer than five minutes.

It had taken him thirty.

Now though, the threat was very real and the risk was bigger than a skinned knee. He needed help and not the kind that Jack was offering. He needed someone else who could understand the psychological aspect of it, needed someone to assure him that he was right to be afraid because this had to do with Abigail and if Will lost her, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself; wouldn’t be able to live at all, period.

“My wife,” he cleared his throat,” she was…amazing.” He looked down at his hands, smiling softly at the memory of Molly. “She was stubborn and strong, God,” he said laughingly,” Abigail is so much like her that it pains me sometimes.” He used to ask himself every day how he had ever gotten so lucky. His voice cracked slightly. “I loved her,” he said fiercely, his hands curling up into fists,” she was my world and then Abigail came into the picture and everything was right in the world, everything was  _perfect_.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the pity on the doctor’s face.

“At that time, I had just started out as a profiler in the FBI. I was actually just a teacher at the academy before then but Jack approached me, asked me for help on a case. There had been a string of murders in the area, all women, all same modus operandi.” He didn’t really want to get into any explicit details. “From the crime scenes, I had managed to gather up only a minimal amount of information. As it was, it really wasn’t enough but I was able to at least find out how they were choosing their victims.”

Mothers. Women who had younger children, who loved their children unconditionally. There was envy behind the murders, only growing more with each body that they had found.

“I was getting close.” It had been roundabout but he had felt so close to finding out. He had felt it on the tip of his tongue, lingering in his mind. “Unfortunately, they found me before I could find them.” He hadn’t realized that what he had been doing would catch anyone’s attention, most especially the person for who they had been looking for. Had he known, he would’ve never accepted Jack’s offer.

“Your wife?” Dr. Hannibal’s voice was soft and Will finally looked up to meet sanguine eyes.

“Yes. I…found her.” He looked back down at his hands, still remembering how his hands had been painted red. “She had been gutted like an animal.” Shaking his head, he pushed away the memory, not wanting to show the doctor just how much it still affected him. “We never caught the killer.”

Will had many regrets in his life but none was bigger than knowing that he had let the killer get away.

“And now they are back,” the doctor said, comprehension now edging into his tone.

“I don’t know what to do,” he finally admitted. “I panic whenever I so much as try to get close again. I can’t do my job and if I can’t do my job, then how the hell am I supposed catch them? Working on this risks exposing Abigail.  _I can’t do that.”_ Not again. “But if I don’t, then other people die and that fucker is still out there and Abigail would never be safe.”

There was the rustling of cloth and then, Dr. Hannibal was sitting next to him, much closer than he had ever been. “The situation is complex but the solution is simple.”  Will turned to look at him, brows furrowed.

Simple?

“Short of moving to a different country, there is no possibility of running away and I doubt that you will feel comfortable doing so. Think of Abigail, first and foremost. Do you want to live in fear, knowing that the danger is still out there and could strike at any moment?”

He didn’t. He was tired of feeling so helpless against an unknown force. He wanted this to be over and done with and he wanted the weight lifted off his shoulders once and for all.

“Then what am I supposed to do? How can I confront something that I don’t know?”

Dr. Hannibal was quiet for a moment, carefully considering his next words. “You do know. You just have to find the…appropriate way to settle it. You take control of the situation and by taking control, you determine how it affects you. You need to acknowledge the gravity of it and not be overwhelmed by it but accept it. Only then can you feel in control and understand what you must do.”

+

Will ran the words over and over again in his head. What Dr. Hannibal had said had made sense, he knew it did, but accomplishing it was something else entirely.

Now, he looked over at the man, studying his profile. Their conversation had persisted for a decent amount of time until the doctor had suggested that they pick up Abigail and Homer together. Will was still in no condition to drive, too busy contemplating on his choices, so he had readily agreed. He had grown more comfortable around the man lately and he was slowly thawing as a result. He could definitely handle being around him for a while longer.

They weren’t going to be best friends. But at least Will could now finally admit that he could tolerate him – although he knew that at this point, it was probably more than just ‘tolerate’.

“Thank you.”

Dr. Hannibal spared him a glance, a question in his eyes.

“For you know…trying to help me out. I know that Homer probably asked it of you but thank you nonetheless.” At least this way, he could face Abigail honestly, knowing that he made an attempt to deal with the issue before it could get any worse. She hadn’t smiled at him without worry in her eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

“I am simply helping a friend in need.” The man turned his eyes back onto the road and Will was grateful that he had because his expression had quickly turned into one of bewilderment.

Friends? Is that what they were?

He thought back to their past encounters. He could still remember the resentment he had felt for the man in the beginning and he struggled hard to bring back the memory of the very same emotion. He found that he couldn’t and instead of being bothered by this, he only felt puzzled over this sudden development.

In a way, he supposed that they were friends – in the barest sense of the word. It had been inevitable after all, seeing as their children liked spending time with each other. When faced with the same company time and time again, people were bound to develop a sort of kinship.

Put into this perspective, he could actually see why Dr. Hannibal had used the term ‘friends’.

Even so, Will found himself at a loss. He didn't have many friends - Alana and Beverly didn't count seeing as they were Abigail's self-appointed godmothers and thus grudgingly, he accepted them as family. He knew that he was awkward and that not many people felt comfortable around him. Which was why he didn't bother making any friends. Still...it had been a long time since anyone had considered him a friend. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked down at his hands, a pleasant thrill coursing through him. His eyes stayed on his hands throughout the rest of the ride and so he didn’t notice the warm and fond glances that Dr. Hannibal was giving him.

+

“Is that…daddy and Mr. Lecter… _together_?” Abigail blinked in surprise, staring at the Bentley in disbelief.

“I think so,” Homer said uncertainly. He rubbed his eyes, trying to see if wiping them would make the mirage – albeit a very impressively realistic one – vanish. When he saw that the sight remained the same, he turned to Abigail. “It’s real,” he whispered, awe written plainly across his face.

Abigail grabbed Homer’s hand and pulled him along towards the car. Her daddy was turned to the side, smiling at something Mr. Lecter was saying and she grinned, now practically running. Catching her daddy’s attention, he finally turned to her when she let go of Homer’s hand to throw herself at his legs. “Daddy!” She hugged him around the waist tightly. “Hi, Mr. Lecter!” Her lips turned up into a shy smile.

“Hello Abigail.” He nodded at her as Homer grabbed his hand. She was lifted up into strong arms and she squealed happily, clutching on tightly to her daddy.

“Did you have fun at school?” He asked her, greeting her with a kiss on the forehead.

“Yup.” She looked at Homer who was momentarily distracted by his papa. “We’re making portraits!”

“I see.” He hummed. “You’ve gotten quite heavy, kid.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She hugged him around the neck anyway, leaning in to whisper into his ear,” Why did you and Mr. Lecter come together? Is there something you’re not telling me, daddy?” She said in a chiding tone, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“We had a talk.” He carefully set her down again, taking her backpack from her. “I think we’ll be okay for now.” Abigail bit her lip as she tried to stifle her smile. Mr. Lecter worked faster than she had expected and she finally felt at ease, knowing exactly what her daddy was referring to.

She had been worrying that maybe Mr. Lecter would deem them a lost cause despite Homer’s attempts at reassuring her that his papa would never do such a rude thing. All night long she had tossed and turned, completely restless and unable to sleep as she kept an ear trained for any other disturbances. It had been tempting to crawl into daddy’s bed just to watch him sleep but she had done the very same thing over the past few days and her daddy had told her that he didn’t need coddling even if her efforts were appreciated.

So she had been shooed back into her own bed no matter how hard she had protested.

Maybe now she could finally stop worrying.

“Thank you daddy,” she murmured, giving him one last hug before racing towards the car, sliding in right beside Homer in the back seat and making sure to buckle her seatbelt. She briefly admired the interior of the car – their car was old and a little worse for wear, not that she really minded it much at all anyway – before nervously tapping her finger against the leather seat.

Homer grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, giving her a shy smile. With a pointed stare at the front, where her daddy and Homer’s papa had finally gotten in their seats – and were actually now deep in discussion, a few chuckles actually coming from  _Mr. Lecter_  – she knew that they were definitely going to be more than okay.

+

“You didn’t have to stay to help me prepare dinner.” Will leaned back against the counter, watching as Dr. Hannibal stirred the stew. He had used the fish that Will had caught earlier and now he couldn’t stop staring at it hungrily, body tilted to the side to discreetly sniff at the food. His stomach grumbled quietly and he blushed, hoping that the doctor hadn’t heard.

If he did, he was at least polite enough to not mention it.

“I insist; it is merely selfishness on my part. The fish that you brought in earlier had caught my eye.”

“It’s just fish,” Will muttered, stepping in closer to look down into the pot. Their shoulders brushed and he forced himself to not move away. He was more mature than this, dammit. There was nothing wrong with a few accidental touches; he had grown far too old for the cooties game. “It smells really good. I wish my cooking turned out like this. Abigail complains about it practically every day.” Not that she did so directly but he knew his daughter and he definitely knew when she was trying to hide something from him.

In this case, what she thought of the food he cooked was always so obvious in the way that she smiled innocently as she ate.

“It is due to practice and passion. Cooking has always been a source of comfort and I enjoy finding new recipes for Homer to enjoy. It is not often that I am given the chance to cook for anyone else.”

Will hummed noncommittally, more focused on the food. It looked just about ready. He looked out the window and spotted Abigail and Homer still running around with the pack and he smiled. “They’re good for each other, I think.”

The very thought of Abigail having to deal with this, with  _him_ , all on her own without any help from anybody else, was absolutely devastating.

“They are,” Dr. Hannibal agreed, finally turning off the stove and placing the wooden spoon down in the sink. “I believe that they are much happier now with each other in their lives, than they were before.” 

“I never had friends like that when I was a kid. Did you?” He raised a brow at the man.

“No. I did not,” he said curtly, turning to retrieve the bowls that Will had set out earlier. The clipped response left Will feeling slightly puzzled but he didn’t pry, instead setting out their utensils and napkins. The cups went next and he filled them up with water knowing that after chasing each other around, the kids would be terribly thirsty and juice wouldn’t be enough in helping to rehydrate them.

Finally, after they had set the table – this time, Will was glad to say that he hadn’t broken anything; not that it mattered anyway, seeing as this was  _his_  dinnerware – Will stepped out onto the porch to call for Abigail and Homer.

They were lying on the ground, giggling and pointing at the sky and he sighed, shaking his head fondly at them. Having noticed their names being called out, they quickly jumped up and ran past him into the house, carefully standing on their tiptoes to wash their hands in the kitchen sink.

A few minutes later, they were all seated at the slightly rickety table and Will honestly couldn’t muster enough embarrassment for the state of his furniture once he had taken the first bite of his food.

It was pleasantly hot on his tongue and when he swallowed, it went down his throat like an intimate caress, warming him up on the inside and chasing away the outside winter chill. The stew itself wasn’t overwhelming and the fish practically melted like butter on his tongue.

“This is so good!” Abigail scooped up another spoonful, lightly blowing on it to cool it down before hastily shoving it into her mouth. Homer ate quietly, making small appreciative noises as he ate, making sure to not make a mess.

Dr. Hannibal chuckled. “Thank you Abigail.”

Will decided to throw in his own compliment. The food was too good to not acknowledge. “It really is quite good. Delicious, even,” he murmured, looking up at the doctor from beneath his lashes. The man looked at him, studying him closely and then he smiled, obviously pleased.

“Thank you, Will.” Sanguine eyes never left his face and Will flushed, hurriedly looking back down to his bowl, not prepared enough to fully face the intensity of the stare. He quickly placed another spoonful of stew into his mouth, nearly burning his tongue in the process. It was difficult to not openly curse but he successfully refrained, pretending that nothing was amiss.

The rest of dinner went by without any other words spoken, just the clinking of utensils against their bowls and the inaudible whispered conversation that Homer and Abigail were having.

Will was unable to taste the stew after his unwise decision of shoveling the steaming thick broth into his mouth but he savored as much as his temporarily damaged taste buds allowed.

He hoped that there were leftovers so he could eat it once more again on his own, without having to fidget under Dr. Hannibal’s continued scrutiny.

+

After dinner, the Lecters left, as it was nearing nightfall. Abigail pouted and harrumphed until finally appeased with the promise of another visit sometime soon.

Will shrugged, no longer feeling the desire to object as vehemently as he used to. Dinner had been great and the discussion that he had had with the doctor earlier had cemented his decision, despite how vague his advice had been.

He truly wouldn’t mind more discussions like these. That’s what ‘friends’ did anyway, right? ‘Hang out’?

 He wrinkled his nose at the term as they waved off the doctor and Homer, watching as their car disappeared down the gravel road.

Abigail lingered behind on the porch, looking sadly into the night. Will playfully tugged on her ponytail to get her attention. “You’ll see Homer at school again tomorrow. And they said that they would come over again soon.”

“I know but…” she shrugged. “I like this; all of us being together. It’s nice.” She flopped down on the couch, Buster passing by to give her hand a brief sniff before rejoining the rest of the dogs. “And you looked happy, daddy.”

“Did I?” He hadn’t noticed anything different but his perception was different to the view of an outsider’s. Plopping down next to her, he moved her feet onto his lap to make more room for him. She wiggled her toes and Will poked them absentmindedly. “They’re different.”

Not bad different. Just…different.

He had made attempts before at bonding with other parents however; it was all judgment and superiority complexes. There was being proud of your child and then there was shoving their achievements in everybody’s face just for sake of being arrogant.

Raising a child wasn’t a competition.

It was a reward all in itself.

There were no prizes other than watching your child grow under your care. They were like flowers, requiring a careful and loving hand until they bloomed beautifully. Looking at Abigail, he knew that one day, he’d be able to admit that he loved her as much as he could and some days, even more than he thought was possible.

 _That_ was his reward.

And he had a feeling that Dr. Hannibal felt the same way that he did. Of course the man wasn’t overly affectionate nor did he appear to be the type to openly fawn over Homer. With him, it was the small things that Will caught sight of that convinced him that he loved his son more than anything.

 It was the look that the doctor sometimes had on his face whenever he looked at Homer. The quiet wonder and fascination that never completely goes away, no matter how much times passes by.

He knew because he had seen the very same look on his face once when he had been holding Abigail as he passed by the hallway mirror. She had just finished recounting the adventure that she had gone on with Winston, mouth moving a mile a minute and she clumsily stumbled over her words, too excited to slow down for eloquence. He had nodded along, attentive although he had heard the same story five times already.

It was then that he had caught sight of himself; he was soft all over. Down to his eyes and his smile, to his flushed cheeks. His body was relaxed in a way that he never really allowed it to be and even he couldn’t mistake the adoration on his face.

There had been many times before that he consciously agreed that Abigail was fascinating. How couldn’t he? She was a part of him, perhaps the purest part of him that there was. At times, he couldn’t believe that half of her, was _him_ but when it came down to it, Abigail was Abigail no matter his part in her conception.

And _that_ was the most fascinating thing about her.

However to consciously know and to actually see it for himself, was a completely different matter.

Perhaps this was the reason for why he had reluctantly accepted the doctor. He was stoic at times and honestly, quite bizarre but he still felt that they understood each other in a way that not many other people were able to.

For the first time in years, Will felt the curious spark of… _something_. He wasn’t sure of what it was but he had finally reached that point where he could admit that he enjoyed Dr. Hannibal’s company.

“We’re different too. Different is good.” Abigail poked his side.

Will thought about it for moment before agreeing. “Different _is_ good.”

She beamed up at him, her toes curling happily in his hands. She sighed contently. “We can be different together.”

Will liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that progress that I see? 
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> (Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/)!)


	12. Chapter 12

“What are you going to do for Abigail’s birthday?” Will shrugged at the question, looking over at Alana.

“I asked, she said that she wanted to invite the Lecters over for dinner. She also specifically requested your presence and Beverly’s.” It was the first thing Abigail had said, stating that there would be no exceptions. On her birthday, she was the boss and all rules must be obeyed. Abigail had even gone as far as to write it on the blackboard in the kitchen, as if he needed a daily reminder whenever he reached for something in the fridge.

As it was, she had already convinced him to call Dr. Hannibal to invite him and Homer to her birthday dinner. The doctor had agreed, of course. The only condition being that he provide the food. Will hadn’t argued against that, secretly relieved that he wouldn’t be needing to cook anything even if it implied that Dr. Hannibal didn’t want to eat anything he cooked – and really, this should’ve offended him but even Will didn’t want to eat his own cooking sometimes.

Alana sighed, smiling fondly down at Alma who nudged her hand. “I was afraid of that. I have a conference to attend this weekend; so unfortunately, I don’t think that I can make it.” She scratched a floppy ear, the dog’s tail wagging at the attention. “I’m sure that Beverly can come though. She has spent all week complaining that she has to stay home and will have nothing to do.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised.” Although really, keeping Beverly busy was beneficial to him too. She had the tendency of popping up at random whenever left alone for too long; at least this way, he could save himself the trouble and just invite her officially.

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.” She quickly interjected, changing the subject to give him a pointed look, absentmindedly continuing on with her petting. “I was sure that you would’ve disappeared off into the night with Abigail.”

Will _had_ considered it but as discussed with Dr. Hannibal, it would be futile and it would achieve nothing but more trouble. “I’m doing the best I can.” Which still wasn’t _the_ best but neither was it the worst. “And Dr. Lecter has been really helpful.” More than, actually.

“Oh, yes,” Alana hummed, ceasing her petting. Alma whined at her feet before making her way back outside. “Speaking of that, Beverly has brought him up once or twice.” She seemed slightly hurt that Will hadn’t thought to tell her himself.

“Beverly knows nothing and should keep her nose out of other people’s business,” he muttered, not bothering to ask her about what exactly Beverly had said. “Whatever she told you, it’s not true.” It was his argument against everything that Bev said because she did have the bad habit of making exaggerations.

This time she rolled her eyes, crossing one leg over the other. “I know that. She’s not exactly the most reliable source when it comes to gossip.”

Curiosity won out. “What did she say?” He was going to regret this, he just knew it.

“That you’re getting married and that you agreed that she would be the maid of honor.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Of course I know that’s not true because the maid of honor would most definitely be _me,_ wouldn’t it?”

Insane. He was surrounded by insane women. “There is _nothing_ going on between Dr. Hannibal and me.” He was adamant in this. They had just barely begun to get along with each other and there was no room for romance between them.

“So it’s Dr. _Hannibal_ now, isn’t it,” she mused.  Will groaned and grabbed a pillow off the couch to hide his face in, knowing exactly what was coming. “Dating might be good for you, Will. Abigail is older now and she’s incredibly understanding. She wouldn’t mind that it was a man either, I know that _you_ certainly wouldn’t.” His face grew more heated at the comment and he wished that the floor would just swallow him up. He knew that it had been a mistake to reveal to her his experimentation phase with the same gender back in college.

“Abigail would make their life a living hell.” His words came out muffled into the pillow. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely accurate but last time that Will had expressed even just a bit of interest in someone else, Abigail had made sure that it hadn’t progressed beyond that.

She was most definitely possessive over him and although over time it had decreased, Will still wasn’t sure how she would react to him dating someone. He wasn’t all that eager to find out either.

“She would not. She’s the sweetest.” This made Will pull the pillow away from his face and he looked at her disbelievingly. Alana crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, daring him to disagree with her. He held his hands out in front of him in surrender. There were many sides to Abigail – of course he knew them all, despite her trying to hide the most devious side – and the side that Alana was most familiar with was the innocent side. She was all sweet smiles and soft giggles with her aunt Alana. The only one who knew full well just how devious Abigail could be, was Beverly and she didn’t like sharing their plans either.

Regardless, Will wasn’t about to try to change Alana’s mind. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. It’s the last thing I need, honestly.” It was too dangerous of a time to try to involve anyone else in this clusterfuck of a mess, especially someone who already had a child of their own. That was a risk that he wasn’t even willing to consider, much less take.

Thankfully, Alana didn’t push the issue but instead chose to stare at him. Will had to look away because even though her mouth was no longer moving, her eyes said everything.

She wanted him to get on with his life and not focus on the fear of possibilities. He supposed that she was right and although he would’ve considered it at any other moment, right now, with all the risk outweighing the benefits, he knew that he would prefer placing this on the backburner. Maybe eventually he would revist the suggestion but the time was not now and it wouldn’t be any time soon either.

Although he couldn’t deny that he thought that Dr. Hannibal was… _slightly_ attractive. Kind of. If he would just put away those ridiculous suits for once. Just thinking about them made him nauseous.

He could hear the clacking of the dogs’ nails scratching the floor as they walked around the house, coming back from their earlier romp in the woods. Save for that, it was quiet. Abigail was still in school and would be for a few more hours. He was contemplating on whether he should tell her that Aunt Alana had come over for a visit or not – if he did, he was sure that she would pout for the rest of the day for having missed her – when he heard a knock at the door.

There was a lone bark that rang throughout the house, several others later joining in as they caught on. Will sighed as he got up, Alana following behind him as he walked up to the door, opening it to reveal a teenager at the door. He had a box in one of his hands, phone in the other. He was dressed in a brown, ill fitted uniform and cap. Finally realizing that the door had opened, he hurriedly stashed his phone into his pants, giving Will a nervous smile.

“Is this the Graham residence?” His voice was too deep for someone who looked so young and Will blinked, slightly surprised before composing himself.

“Who wants to know?” This was just a kid – skin still spotted from acne, blemished pockets of pinched skin the only reminder of scars – but Will couldn’t be too careful.

“Um, got a package here, sir.” He waved the box around and pulled out a clipboard that he hadn’t noticed before. “If you could just sign here, sir? It’s a really busy day,” he gave him a small smile and shrug as he handed him the clipboard. Will looked it over carefully, confirming that it was indeed just a normal package before signing it and giving it back to the boy. He handed him the box, tipping his hat before walking back to the car parked in the driveway.

Will stood in the doorway as the car disappeared down the road and he took the box into the house, a bemused expression on his face as he placed it onto the coffee table. Alana had been standing away at a distance and she picked it up, eyeing the elegantly wrapped box. A pink bow wrapped around it, the ribbon woven intricately through the beautifully patterned wrapping paper.

“Were you expecting something?” She finally asked, poking the box. Will furrowed his brow, mouth turned down into a frown. He hadn’t ordered anything and certainly not anything like this. Even the paper looked expensive and he knew that he wouldn’t spend so much money on mere _paper_. Slender fingers felt around the box and with a small _aha_ , pulled at a tag tucked into a corner.

“What is it?” He peeked over her shoulder as she opened the small paper.

_To: Abigail Graham_

_From: The Lecters_

“Fuck.” A gift. It had to be a gift. Dammit. Now he knew that he couldn’t open it and the curiosity was going to kill him. They’d have to return it; Will had specifically said no to gifts.

“Will,” Alana mumbled under her breath, distractedly chastising him for the expletive. “This is sweet of them, I’m sure that Abigail will love whatever it is.”

“She’s not going to know. We can’t accept it.” Alana scoffed, swatting him on the arm.

“The gift belongs to Abigail. Besides, it says _The Lecters_ , which means that it’s from the both of them. Are you really going to be so rude as to throw their gift back in their face?” The look that she was now giving him made him feel guilty.

“I said no gifts,” he muttered quietly, knowing that his argument was weak. “Dr. Hannibal is already providing the food.” It was too much, he couldn’t let them think that Will was taking advantage of them.

“They want to make this nice for Abigail too,” she said, voice soft. “Let them. You both need it.”

Will knew that she was right. Before this, they celebrated Abigail’s birthday with just the two of them, Alana and Beverly joining every now and then, whenever they could come. This was the first time that new people would be joining them and Abigail was ecstatic. She hadn’t been able to shut up about it ever since Will had conceded.

And admittedly, Will was excited as well. Abigail’s happiness was contagious and he found himself looking forward to this just as much as her despite how much he denied it.

Abigail deserved everything and more. And if he had to agree to a few things that he usually wouldn’t otherwise, well, that was fine with him as well.

“I wish I could see what was in it.” Alana nudged his side. “Call me to let me know, at least.”

“I’m sure that Abigail will send you a picture.” Whatever it was, he was sure that Abigail would love it just because it had come from the Lecters.

She laughed, reaching over to grab her purse and leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Take care. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to here for dinner but I’ll make sure to bring her back a gift.”

Will waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine.” He walked her to the door, making sure that she got into her car without a problem. Once gone, he went back into the house, the box still on the table and difficult to ignore. He was tempted to shake it, just to get a clue of what could possibly be in there but refrained, knowing that it would only make him more curious.

He had to wait, unfortunately. Hopefully not for very long, he thought as he looked at his watch. In the meantime, he would take to puttering around the house, just to give himself something to do.

+

“And Homer is really excited, I told him that it was going to be so much fun, daddy!” She waved her arms around, almost hitting herself in the face because of her enthusiasm.

“Careful,” Will reminded her as they made their way into the house. “I’m glad that Homer’s excited.” The dogs ran up to greet them and Abigail knelt down to pet each one, happily accepting their kisses.

“Yeah, can we have a sleepover? Not for my party but someday?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes and Will sighed, leaning over to take her backpack and setting it down on the rack by the front door.

“Dr. Hannibal and I can talk about it.” He wasn’t going to say that it truly wasn’t appropriate for a girl and a boy to have a sleepover of all things but he trusted Abigail and he trusted Homer. He knew that they were both far too innocent to think of anything else other than enjoying each other’s company.

“Okay.” There was no arguing, just simple agreement for once. “Oh, what’s that?” She raced past him and into the living room, eyes wide as she looked at the box that he had forgotten about.

“It’s for you, actually. It’s from the Lecters.” He nodded at the tag and she picked it up reverently.

“Oh daddy, this is so pretty. I don’t want to ruin it!” She looked frightened by the prospect and Will found himself chuckling at her worry.

“It’s fine. We’ll open it slowly and carefully.” He sat on the couch and she joined him, passing him the box. It was a lot harder than he had thought that it would be and it had taken them almost half an hour, but they finally managed to unwrap it without ruining any of the wrapping paper. After they were done, folding the paper with care, Abigail snatched the box out of his hands, excitedly opening the lid. Will leaned over to look into the box, hoping that now his curiosity would finally be satisfied.

Inside, there was white tissue and Abigail pushed it out of the way, small hands digging in to pull out whatever was in there. She gasped and Will stiffened until she finally pulled it out, a dress in her hands.

Unceremoniously, the box was thrown aside, Abigail carefully straightening out the dress on the table. It was two toned, black and white with cap sleeves. The upper bodice was all black lace while the skirt was made out of white tulle and there was a black velvet belt that hung around the waist that would tie in the back.

 _“Oh, it’s so beautiful.”_ Abigail breathed, reverently touching the dress, fingering the material with so much care, almost as if she didn’t want to risk dirtying it. Will had to admit that though he didn’t know much about dresses – although he did at least make an effort – that this dress _was_ gorgeous and it suited Abigail perfectly. It wasn’t anything too colorful for her tastes and although frilly, as she so claimed to dislike, it still had a certain charm to it. “Daddy, can I wear this for my dinner?” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, still refusing to let go of her new dress.

“Of course.” He suspected that that had been the intention all along and Will didn’t want to argue with Abigail anyway, not when she was smiling so brightly. She squealed happily, launching herself at him to hug him around the waist before running off to her room, new dress in tow.

He stood, staring after her for a moment even when she had already disappeared. Although the gift had been unexpected, she did appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

Even if the dress looked more expensive than anything he could ever hope to afford and he tried to not feel so bitter and envious in that he couldn’t provide for Abigail by buying her the best of everything. He had to remind himself that he was trying his best and that Abigail understood, never once complaining about it. He hoped that he could remember to at least keep his mouth shut when he saw Dr. Hannibal and not bluntly ask how much the dress had cost.

+

After days of Jack pushing him to look into other cases and his frustration growing at being so obviously rebuffed, the day of Abigail’s birthday had finally arrived.

The morning of, he was woken up in bed by the birthday girl herself who had thought it best to take on the task of waking up the rest of the house. Even the pack had joined in on the excitement, jumping into his bed and lapping at his face in an effort to pull him out of bed.

Although that could’ve also been contributed by the fact that they needed to go out to relieve themselves.

Abigail was usually loud, of that there was no surprise. However, today she was louder than usual as she jumped on his bed, making him grumble darkly under his breath after he had already wished her a quiet ‘happy birthday’. He had gone to sleep late last night, kept up by the cold cases he had been forced to take a look at. It wasn’t as if he got much sleep to begin with but for the last few weeks, he had found it even harder to sleep which he hadn’t thought to be possible until now.

He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, hand shielding his eyes from the bright rays of sunlight as Abigail followed along behind him.

“Daddy, you gotta shave today. It’s my birthday and I’m the boss.” She crossed her arms, looking at his back defiantly. Will stopped in his tracks. Surely, this was a dream. Surely, he was still sleeping because he _knew_ that Abigail hadn’t just said that.

Turning around, he met her determined frown with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t seem cowed by his tone and instead stood up straighter. “It’s my birthday,” she repeated again, as if that resolved all issues.

“Well, it’s my house,” he threw back.

“It’s my house too!” she huffed, unimpressed by his words. “And you said that you would do anything that I said.”

He _did_ vaguely remember something along those lines although he was also aware that he had said it while he was fighting off sleep. He hadn’t been specific because he hadn’t thought that Abigail would’ve remembered though he really should’ve known better. “What’s wrong with my beard?”

This was not what he had woken up for, dammit. He _liked_ his beard even if apparently, Abigail didn’t. It had taken him long to finally grow it out. Without it, he looked young enough to be a college student.

 _“Daddy.”_ She threw up her arms in frustration, looking adorably ruffled still in her doggy pajamas, half of her hair sticking to her face and the other sticking up. “You have to look nice. Please,” she pleaded, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Goddammit. Will had to look away. He hated when she did that because he could never say no to that face. Almost as if she knew, Abigail moved once again into his line of sight, big blue eyes staring up at him imploringly. “Fine.” He would just have to regrow it again, even if the itch that came along with that was a bitch to deal with.

“Thank you, daddy!” Before he could say anything else, she had already run off to lock herself in her room.

He couldn’t argue with her this way and she knew that, not even giving him the chance to take back his words. It was a contract, one that she would be determined to get him to go through with no matter the protests.

She’d make a terrifying lawyer. She’d make a terrifying anything, really. He was already fretting about later on in the future when she figured out what she wanted to do with her life.

He pitied the people that would dare get in her way.

With a sigh, he turned back around to head into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. He’d need at least three cups before he could get moving again.

+

Abigail hummed, placing her dress on the bed and looking at it with admiration. She would have to thank Mr. Lecter and Homer for it later because it truly was beautiful and she couldn’t wait to put it on.

Today was going to be the best day ever, she knew that for certain.

She was finally turning eight, only two more to go before she got to the double digits! Quietly giggling to herself, she hugged herself around the waist to stop herself from jumping up and down. In only a few hours, the Lecters would be here and not only that, so would Auntie Beverly. Aunt Alana couldn’t make it and when daddy had told her, she had been disappointed initially but she knew that she would probably drop by sometime in the next few days.

At least Homer would finally get to meet Auntie Beverly. They were closer to being a family, all of them and she couldn’t believe how easy it had been so far.

Her daddy had gotten used to Mr. Lecter, sometimes even talking to him on the phone. Of course, he didn’t know that she knew but she knew _everything._ Her daddy couldn’t hide anything from her even if he tried – which he did, often. How silly.

Homer was also happy with how much progress they had made and they were both excited to see how far they could go, their plans set for much more than just friendly interaction.

There was still the issue of what had occurred a few weeks ago but her daddy was avoiding talking about it and so Abigail didn’t mention it either, not after the talk they had already had. For now, she would enjoy what they had because she didn’t know when she would wake up to her daddy thrashing in his bed again or whether he would wake up this time.

She didn’t want to think about it so she didn’t.

Still, today was her birthday and she had eagerly waited for this day for weeks. She now had other people to share it with and she was more than thrilled, still couldn’t believe it. Sometimes she would look at Homer in wonder, amazed by the thought that they had met under special circumstances and that most of all, Homer hadn’t pushed her away like all the other ‘friends’ she had before him.

Daddy had told her to be patient; that someone who understood her would come along one day. She had believed him because he’s _daddy_ and she had no reason to doubt him. And he was right. Homer had come along and she wanted him and Mr. Lecter in their lives because she wanted to share that happiness with daddy. He deserved it too; they had been so lonely before but now she could see that that was slowly going away.

That’s why she _needed_ this to work. For her and for Homer because they had been missing the other half of their family and now they finally had the chance to bring them together to form that family they had both wanted for so long. She could only hope that there was no trouble along the way.

Truly, it was up to them. With a sigh, she grabbed her dress and made her way to the bathroom before her daddy could beat her to it.

She was the birthday girl and she had _all_ the right to everything today. Not that she didn’t any other day but today it was different.

Today was the day that she and Homer had planned for a while.

Since the very beginning, really.

Because today was the day that daddy was going to fall in love with papa.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually going to put this one off for a while but [Haanigram's](http://haanigram.tumblr.com//)  
> [doodle](http://hannigram.com/post/96791866968/breannadolly-doodles-of-bby-abi-homer-from) of Abby and Homer inspired me to put it out sooner. And yes, there are two parts to this chapter, don't worry. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in seeing the dress that was bought for Abigail, it's [this](http://usa.alexandalexa.com/david-charles-black-lace-cap-sleeved-dress-w-ivory-under-layer-and-net-ski) one. It's a good thing that Will doesn't know the price because if he did, he'd _die_
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/) :)


	13. Halloween Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! <3 This is the Halloween Special and should not be mistaken for the next chapter in the story. I just wanted to write cute family bonding time, I hope everybody likes it! Next chapter should be up sometime next week, I hope. 
> 
> (Apologies for any writing mistakes, I wrote most of this on my phone.)

Halloween was definitely something that Abigail _loved_ to celebrate. Will found that he also liked dressing her up; there were just so many cute outfits to choose from. It was something that they both participated in, ever since Abigail was a baby. Their first Halloween together, Will had dressed her up as a pumpkin. Uncreative and simple but it had been something that Molly had always wanted and though by that time she was no longer with them, Will had honored her request as much as it had pained him.

Abigail at least enjoyed it, not truly understanding why there was a need to dress up, still so young and impressionable  but she had loved it nonetheless, tugging at her little costume and squealing with joy. They hadn’t gone trick or treating that year but she hadn’t minded and Will liked keeping her close by anyway, right where he could keep a watchful eye on her.

Every year after that had included more costumes, the themes changing once Abigail got older; cute quickly became clever. Just last year, after a long debate, she had finally settled for being  “The Cereal Killer” and they had worked on her costume for weeks, gathering small empty boxes of cereal and punching plastic knives through them and hot gluing them onto a plain red bodysuit. She had been so pleased with her own cleverness, loudly declaring to every house that they went to about who she was supposed to be.

Will had the feeling that this year was going to be different though. Maybe it had something to do with now having new people in their lives to share it with or…maybe it didn’t.

Who knew.

All Will knew was that it was definitely going to be a lot _different_ than last year _._

+

Will had originally bought Abigail a princess costume, crown and scepter included. He had seen it while shopping and it had been on sale, so he got it, thinking that Abigail would like it. When he did eventually show it to her, she didn't say anything particularly bad about it but he could easily tell that she was disappointed; her fake smile revealed _everything_. Later that evening, she had admitted that she had been looking forward to dressing up as a police officer for Halloween.

It was something she had always wanted to dress up as and the urge this year was too strong to ignore - _"I want to be just like you, daddy,"_ had been the shy confession.

Truly, Will should've known, he didn't know what he had been thinking when he had bought her the princess costume. Naive optimism perhaps. He had thought that it would’ve looked really lovely on her.

However, he understood. It wasn’t what she usually liked and he wouldn’t force it on her anyway.

This time, Will took her shopping with him. The only problem was that all of the police officer costumes for girls were mostly skirts and simple blouses and Abigail had nearly thrown a tantrum when she had noticed. She disliked skirts and she couldn’t understand why a girl’s costume had less fabric than a boy’s – _“In the line of duty, daddy, why would you wear an ugly skirt when you can wear cool pants!?”_

“I want a boy’s costume,” she demanded, arms crossed and her mouth twisted up into a small pout. They had wasted nearly an hour searching for a girl’s costume with pants – hell, he’d settle for long shorts at this point - and Will was starting to grow irritated at the lack of one.

“Fine.” If they couldn’t find one, they would just have to create their own – he had no patience to go searching from store to store. They would be cutting it awfully close to Halloween if that happened but if that was their only other option, Will would take it. Abigail took him by the hand and led him towards the boy’s rack and even from here Will could already spot the huge difference. It only took him five minutes to find a police officer costume that would suit Abigail and he huffed, slightly annoyed. He held it up for inspection and Abigail squealed, hugging him tightly.

“It’s perfect!” She took it from him and held it up against her body. “Can we try it on now, daddy?”

The dressing rooms were in the back of the store and she practically ran there, dragging Will behind her before slipping into one of the stalls. He took a seat outside, patiently waiting for her to come out. It didn’t take very long at all, the clothes thrown on haphazardly. With a sigh, Will gestured her closer, fixing up her costume to the best of his abilities. Afterwards, he pushed her towards the mirrors so she could take a look at herself.

 She put her hands on her hips, tugging at the belt around her waist. Abigail narrowed her eyes, lips pressed into a straight line as she then tugged on her cap to fit it over her tangled hair.

Will couldn’t restrain his smile at the sight, Abigail trying to appear as intimidating as she possibly could, which really wasn’t a lot but he wouldn’t tell her that because he had the feeling that she’d be offended.

Abigail happily strutted around in front of the mirror, turning from side to side, cheeks flushed from happiness. Will watched her, heart light at the unconcealed joy on her face. It wouldn’t have been what he would’ve picked out for her but really, it wasn’t meant for him anyway.

He noticed a woman watching them with concern in her eyes and Will kept a close eye on her, already recognizing her expression. She was edging closer until finally, she was standing right beside him.

“Wouldn’t she look better in a girl’s costume?” Will furrowed his brow at the question but before he could say anything, she was standing by Abigail and bending down next to her. “A skirt would look prettier on you, sweetie,” she said warmly.

Abigail looked surprised by the unexpected comment and Will’s jaw clenched. “Ma’am?” The woman turned to him with a blank stare, looking him over with distrustful eyes. “Please step away from my daughter.” He placed himself in front of Abigail to hide her from view. The gall of this woman, approaching Abigail so casually and giving her suggestions as if they were worth anything.

“She’s supposed to be wearing girl’s clothing,” she said with a sniff, turning her nose up at him.

“She’s supposed to be wearing what she likes.” He had been approached by women like this before, who believed that they knew better than him on how to take care of Abigail. He felt sorry for their kids who obviously were restricted by their mothers’ narrow minded views.

“If you let her wear boy’s clothing, she’ll turn into a lesbian, or worse,” the woman snapped, stepping up to him. “As the father you should be enforcing these rules on your children.  Where’s the girl’s mother? I doubt she would like seeing her daughter dressed up like a boy.”

Will ignored her comment about Molly. He knew that had she been here, she would have probably given the woman a piece of her mind. “If you truly believe that clothing is what determines a child’s sexuality then you’re more ignorant than I had originally assumed.” He didn’t want to cause a scene but the woman seemed intent on gathering attention and several people that had been passing by were now standing around and whispering amongst themselves, making no move to intervene, simply content to just observe.

“Hey, lady!” Abigail stepped around him, glaring at the woman. “My daddy is the best! I don’t need your help, go away!” This time, she was the one to place herself in front of him, eyes flashing dangerously.

The woman gasped, hand on her chest. She looked affronted and mortified at being told off by a child and Will felt slightly proud of her but he also knew that Abigail was still very much capable of quickly switching into ‘attack’ mode so he pulled her up into his arms to stop her from throwing herself at the woman, just in case.

They didn’t need a lawsuit on their hands.

“Please take your advice elsewhere because it’s not needed here,” Will said calmly. He didn’t really understand what she had thought she’d be gaining from this but he didn’t care either. Obviously her words had no effect here and she could see that, glaring at them both before turning on her heel and stomping away when she realized that she would not be winning this argument.

Will watched her walk away, making sure that she was truly gone. He then felt Abigail’s arms wrap around his neck. “You’re the best daddy,” she whispered, as if trying to assure him. He smiled softly, giving her side a light squeeze before setting her down.

As if his feelings had been hurt by such ignorance. Will appreciated the gesture anyway though.

He knew that he wasn’t _the_ best per say but he did the best he could. As a single father, it was always hard to play both parts of mother and father but in his opinion, Abigail had turned out more than okay. His greatest achievement; accomplished didn’t even cover what he felt whenever he looked at her.

Limiting Abigail’s choices had never been a plan of his. He wanted her to grow up doing whatever activities caught her attention and wearing whatever clothing she liked. He had never been a huge believer of outside sources influencing a person’s personality to the extent of influencing their sexualities. Things like that were static and not something that could be determined by clothes or the shows she watched.

When she got older and _if_ she decided that she liked girls or boys or neither at all, Will would happily accept it. Abigail deserved his support and nothing less.

Hopefully that moment wouldn’t come for a long time though; he didn’t look forward to having to give love advice when even he couldn’t get his life together. Maybe he’d shove the responsibility onto Alana or Beverly.

They’d probably do a better job than him.

“So…are we getting this one?” Will finally asked, gesturing towards the costume. He hoped that Abigail hadn’t been dissuaded by the woman; it actually made him want to buy it even more, just to spite her even if she couldn’t see them.

“Yes!” She grinned up at him. “Look daddy, it comes with handcuffs!” She turned to the side to show him the handcuffs cuffed to the loop of her belt. “I have a water gun at home, I think,” she mused. Will snorted and nudged her back towards her stall.

“We’ll look for it later.”

Abigail huffed. “This time you _have_ to dress up with me too, daddy. Please?” She looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a pleading look. “Homer is going to dress up and maybe Mr. Lecter will too and I _know_ you have a cop uniform, auntie Katz has a picture of you in one. We can match!”

Will waved a dismissive hand, not really giving it much thought. “We’ll see.” He’d be too embarrassed to dress up so he probably wouldn’t do it. Abigail would just have to accept that; Halloween wasn’t really for adults anyway.

+

"Daddy, I'm ready!" Abigail stepped out of her room, her hands on her hips with a proud smile. Will turned around, looking her over with calculating eyes. She had actually done very well putting the costume together and she looked just like a miniature version of the cadets he saw around at the academy, cuffs by her side and a loaded water gun strapped to her belt. Will narrowed his eyes at that, sensing that it could mean trouble for later. He might have to empty it later when she wasn’t looking.

Suddenly, her smile dropped and she gasped dramatically, jumping up and down. “Ooh daddy!” She walked circles around him, looking at his outfit.

Will had been very determined to not give in to Abigail this time but unfortunately, things never really work out as he usually expects them to. He had come home one night to her rummaging through his closet, turning to give him a sheepish smile when he caught her. His old uniform had been in her hands and she tried to hide it behind her, almost as if he hadn’t already seen it. He hadn’t berated her, much too tired to argue with her, especially about something so inconsequential so he had only nodded, agreeing to her earlier request.

He wasn’t even ashamed to admit that he would’ve given in eventually.

But really, he had been more convinced by Dr. Hannibal’s phone call a few days earlier, asking him questions about what they’d be wearing. Once Will had told him, hesitation lacing his tone, the doctor had merely hummed before bidding him goodnight and Will hadn’t heard from him since. He could only assume that he had called so that they could all coordinate so Will didn’t really know whether Lecter would be dressing up; he didn’t really strike him as the type of man that would indulge in the spirit of Halloween.

Either way, on the night of Halloween, Will had finally pulled on his old uniform and although it had been slightly tight in some places, remarkably enough, it still fit him. He had been shocked but slightly pleased, besides, it didn’t fit him _badly._ In fact, it made him look slimmer. Will pushed aside his embarrassment because he was doing this for the kids and therefore, had to only worry about their reactions and no one else’s.

But…still. His cheeks were flushed when he had walked out to wait for Abigail. Surely, Lecter wouldn’t laugh at him, right? And…and, even if he did, so what? Will didn’t care.

He _didn’t._

Or so that’s what he kept telling himself as they drove to the Lecter’s home.

+

When they finally arrived, Will stalled for a few minutes and Abigail sighed, already more than used to his anxiety. They eventually made it to the house, Abigail reaching out to knock lightly on the door. Once again, they were met by Homer and Will chuckled at the sight of the boy in a white and black striped jumpsuit, a matching cap resting upon his blond locks.

Homer’s smile widened when he saw them. “Abby! Hi, Mr. Graham,” he said shyly.

“Hello, Homer.” He gave him a small smile, almost jerking back when Lecter came into view it was almost as if the man was constantly trying to catch him by surprise, never announcing his presence. Will narrowed his eyes at the suit he was wearing that was free from any patterns or designs that he usually preferred wearing. It looked slightly boring compared to his previous suits; just a plain black suit and a briefcase held in one hand. The other man raised a brow when he caught sight of Will, eyes trailing down his body before coming back up to meet his eyes briefly and then moving to Abigail who looked very excited.

“Good evening, Abigail,” the doctor said, giving her a smile. “You make an intimidating policewoman,” he told her.

“Thank you! Daddy and I match,” Abigail grinned. “What are you dressed up as, Mr. Lecter?” Will didn’t even know whether he _was_ dressed up. He actually looked normal compared to other times.

“I am Homer’s lawyer.” But that hadn’t been the answer he had been expected and he laughed loudly, completely caught off guard by Hannibal’s response. Dammit, that was actually surprisingly…endearing.

“Cute,” he muttered, giving Lecter a bright smile. The man looked slightly surprised by his reaction but regained composure quickly, happily returning his smile. Will cleared his throat, cheeks flushed once he realized that he had actually said that aloud.

Will turned to Homer instead – desperate to look away before he accidentally admitted anything else to the doctor. “Are you ready for trick or treating, Homer?” he asked the small boy.

“Yes! It’s my first time,” Homer admitted, shuffling his feet with a bashful smile. “Papa took me shopping and Abby told me that she was going to be a police officer so I wanted us to match too.”

And wasn’t that lovely, two cops, a criminal and a lawyer. Will couldn’t have planned it better himself; he was actually glad that Dr. Hannibal had decided to do it like this. The kids seemed happy enough, now talking amongst themselves, touching each other’s costumes. He was too caught up in looking at Homer and Abigail that Will hadn’t noticed that Lecter had left for a minute until he spotted him returning with two bright orange pumpkin baskets in hand.

“I did not know which one to get them but it appears that this is the most popular?” The other man handed one to each child, before turning to Will. “My apologies, Homer and I do not usually partake in such events so this is new to both of us. I hope we are not intruding.”

Dr. Hannibal’s call, asking him if they could join him and Abigail for trick or treating, had been unexpected but not unwelcomed. “Not at all.” Will gave him a reassuring smile. “We usually go by ourselves anyway and Abigail was really excited to do this with Homer this year.” Thrilled, enthusiastic, running from room to room and scaring the pack in the process. She had been flying off the walls the whole week practically and it had been hard to get her settled down before bed, too excited to actually go to sleep.

He had already had to wash her costume three times, Abigail wearing it for two days straight, claiming that it was a crime in itself to _not_ give it the attention it deserved. Will had taken it away from her after the third time and he had hidden it somewhere where even Abigail would have a hard time finding it.

“And this is not too much?” The man asked, gesturing to both him and Homer. Will assumed he meant their costumes and his smile turned into a playful smirk. The man almost seemed unsure of himself and it was different to how he usually acted. This was the doctor out of his element and Will found that he actually liked seeing this side of the doctor; it made him appear more human.

“No, you’re fine. At least it fits with our theme, whatever that is,” he said with a chuckle.

“Is that your old uniform?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck, nearly choking on his saliva at the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “Uh, yes. Abigail was insistent on us matching and it was really hard to say no. I think _I_ might be too much,” he said, laughing nervously.  

“No…it is perfect,” Lecter said, tone soft. It made Will look up at him, gulping at the heat he found in his gaze and even though his face was burning, he couldn’t make himself look away. This was terrible; his reactions were just getting more and more obvious every day.

“Daddy!” Abigail’s voice jolted him back into reality and Will cleared his throat again, quickly looking away. “We’re ready, can we go now?” Homer was already fidgeting with the cuffs that Abigail must've slapped on him when they hadn't been paying attention.

Hopefully they weren’t hurting the young boy – though he seemed completely fine, not even minding it – and he could only pray that they could get them off later on once they had to part ways.

It wasn't as if they were late, it was nearing dusk just barely and they had decided to stay in the Lecter's neighborhood since both Will and Abigail suspected that there'd be better candy to be found here. Besides, it wasn’t as if they had any neighbors nearby anyway. Hopefully, their appearance around the neighborhood wouldn’t cause the Lecters any trouble though; people did so enjoy gossiping amongst themselves.

Will turned back to Lecter with a shrug, still not really looking at him even though he could still feel the other man’s stare. "I think the policewoman is starting to get antsy."

"There's more criminals to catch, daddy!"

"And candy!" Homer interjected.

"That too," Abigail said, nodding her agreement.

"I most certainly cannot get in the way of justice." The doctor sighed dramatically, closing the door behind him. The kids giggled and ran down the steps, stopping to wait by the mailbox. Will watched after them with a fond smile as Lecter stood by his side.

"Shall we?" a voice murmured into his ear and it took all of Will's strength to not jump away, feeling heat spread down his neck where he had felt the other man's warm breath.

Instead, he righted his collar and nodded, hoping that he could manage to pull off looking unphased. He didn't know if he had but the doctor didn't say anything else as they walked up to meet the kids who were looking at them with slightly impatient glares.

Abigail immediately took his right hand in her left and Homer's in her right. Following the pattern, Homer took his father's left hand in his right so that they were all linked, connected together as they walked down the street.

Will absentmindedly wondered how they all looked like from an outsider's point of view and got his answer when they eventually arrived at a more crowded spot. A woman bumped into him, her toddler in her arms and she hastily apologized, stopping in her tracks to watch them leave.

He hoped that she wasn't about to confront him, the memory of that women in the costume shop still quite fresh in his mind. But instead, as they started walking away, he heard her quietly mumble to her son.

"Such a lovely family."

Will quickly turned to look at her over his shoulder but she was already walking away, humming softly under her breath to her child who seemed to be lightly dozing in the comfort of his mother’s arms.

"Daddy?" When he turned around, he saw that Abigail, Homer and the doctor were looking at him, their concern apparent in their expressions. "Are you okay?" She tugged at his hand, more than ready to demand answers if she didn’t get them soon.

He opened his mouth to answer, head tilted to the side before stopping in his tracks, truly looking at them and his heart nearly bust with the intense fondness that he felt once the implication of the stranger’s earlier comment hit him like a slap to the face.

It made him feel proud that a stranger had quickly assumed that they were one family instead of two separate ones and he didn't realize that up until this point, he had been thinking of them in this way as well. He had been stopped by his inability to form coherency, too wrapped up in denying what was happening right before his eyes. Because for the first time since Molly’s painful death, he felt that his family was slowly growing to that point where he had finally achieved a sense of accomplishment, that final stage of completion.

Slowly, without him noticing, the Lecters have become important to both him and Abigail. His bitterness slowly ebbing away until all that was left behind was fond resignation and hope at the end of the tunnel.

For tonight, he could put away everything that was wrong, all of his worries and insecurities. Tomorrow, it was a different day, a new approach but at least he could get through it knowing that this small group of people with him right now, would still care about him regardless of his failures.

Or, at least he hoped so.

So with a small smile, he gave Abigail’s hand a light squeeze and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” More than, even.

Molly would always be missed, he doubted that her loss would never not hurt but lately he had been feeling a small invisible nudge, one he couldn’t really describe, pushing him forward, urging him to…perhaps give this a chance.

To at least keep an open mind.

Looking at Homer and Dr. Lecter, Will could at least grudgingly admit that somewhere along the way, they had become family. They were just as important to him as Beverly and Alana; a family he could be proud of.

 _His_ family, he thought, his smile slowly becoming wider, a hint of pride in his eyes. And as they continued walking, garnering more stares - some shocked, others slightly reproachful, and many envious - Will found that he didn’t care for anything else at this moment other than the two children beside him humming loudly and the other man that indulged them, joining them along without complaint.

They reached their first house, the children reaching to knock at the door at the same time.

“You say trick or treat, okay?” he heard Abigail whisper to Homer and the boy’s quiet noise of agreement.

And when the door opened, they greeted the elderly couple in front of them with beaming smiles.

“Trick or treat!” they chorused, holding out their baskets but still refusing to let go of their parent’s hand. This time, when they turned to make their way down the stairs, candy rattling in their baskets, Will knew that they had all heard the elderly couple’s comment clearly.

No hallucinations, no wishful thinking, happiness blooming in his chest.

_“What a cute family.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/) :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in months, I've been going through a really rough writer's block but hopefully that's over! I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint all of you who have been patiently waiting.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your endless support, I appreciate it all so much <3

Abigail twirled around in her new dress, pleased with the final result. She couldn't stop touching it, fingers pressed into the lace and tulle skirt and she knew that she was more than likely to make a mess of it later but right now, she just didn't care. 

Right now, she felt like a princess and although most times she hated feeling so girly, today was an exception. This was her battle gear, unexpected and more than worth it. She was going to own this day, her and Homer together, and they were going to succeed in ways more than expected.

Daddy would be so proud.

As it was, daddy was oblivious and it was a good thing that he had Abigail because truly, she didn’t really know how he’d ever get by without her. She had to take care of him because if she didn’t, then who would?

Well, other than…maybe…Mr. Lecter.

She hoped.

“Daddy!” She peeked around her door, a frown on her face when she didn’t spot him in the living room. She stepped out of her room fully, wiggling her toes as she walked down the hallway. “Daddy?” The door was slightly ajar and she pushed it open, eyes narrowed when she found him struggling with his shirt.

With a sigh, she entered the room, eyes roaming around the almost empty space as she tried to find a suitable tie for him. She found a simple black one hanging off of a chair and she approached her daddy, poking him in the side to hand it to him. He took it without a word and pulled it on, his scowl disappearing completely and turning into a smile when he caught what she was wearing.

“You look beautiful.” Abigail grinned at the compliment, cheeks flushed red as she shyly tugged at the bottom hem of her dress.

“Thank you, daddy.” She made sure that his tie was neat, eyes critically looking him over. Once she saw that he looked fine – Daddy had to be on his very best behavior today which definitely included also dressing for the occasion – she nodded to herself, satisfied for now. “Good job,” she praised him, squealing with laughter when he picked her up, playfully tickling her and rubbing his now smooth cheek against hers.

Abigail could tell that he was just as happy as she was which was what she wanted most of all. This was her day but it also belonged to him; she had no problem sharing it with the person she loved the most in the world.

She just hoped that tonight wouldn’t end up becoming a disaster. Confidence was something she had in abundance but it wavered at the thought of the possibilities of failure. Thankfully, Daddy didn’t notice her small frown when he set her down again.

No, failure was simply not an option.

Abigail could handle it any other day but not today. She was going to make today perfect no matter what she had to do to achieve it.

This was the day that was going to go down in history. A vision of true happiness – her daddy’s smile, once so rare, now bright in her dreams.

Dreams sometimes had the chance to become reality. She was going to make do with what she had because this was _her_ chance to make her dreams come true.

“I’ve got a good feeling about today, daddy.” Her arms wrapped around his waist to hug him and she felt his hands gently comb through her hair.

“Yeah? Me too.”

+

“I have arrived,” Beverly declared loudly when Will finally opened the door. He rolled his eyes but moved aside to let her in, Beverly giving him a smug smirk as she passed him by. “Looking good, Graham. Looks like you finally shaved off your manly beard. So much effort for me? You really shouldn’t have.” Will didn’t even know how to respond to that. “Now…where’s my little hellion?” she asked, a fond smile now tugging at her lips.

Before Will could say anything, Abigail came running down the hall, dress flowing behind her as she threw herself at Beverly’s legs. “Auntie Katz!”

Beverly grinned, bending down to hug Abigail and tried to lift her up into her arms. “Happy birthday, Abby. Jesus, kid, you’ve gotten heavier. My back is going to give out; I’m too damn old for this.” She threw Will an accusing glare, as if it was his fault. Will sighed tiredly, knowing that he was going to have his hands full with these two for the next few hours. He wished that Alana was here but she had left for her conference yesterday and wouldn’t be back for another week. Will missed her; if only because she was the only one who could keep Beverly under control.

“Homer’s coming today and so is Mr. Lecter!” Abigail pulled away, bouncing on her toes as she looked up beseechingly at Will. “Daddy, when will they get here?”

The doctor had called Will half an hour ago to tell him that they were on their way. Not that Will had been worrying. He hadn’t been thinking that the man had changed his mind, not at all.

He’d just been wondering when the food would get here was all.

It was too late to make a run to the grocery store for food now anyway.

“They should be here soon,” Will said, ruffling Abigail’s hair. She made a face, pushing his hand away.

“Daddy, you’re going to mess up my hair,” she whined although a small smile was making its way onto her face. Suddenly, her eyes widened almost as if she had just remember something important and she was off, running back into her room and slamming the door shut behind her.

“No slamming doors!” Will sighed, running his fingers through his own hair. Not even four yet and a glass of whiskey was sounding better and better with each passing minute.

“Mr. Lecter then, huh?” Beverly interjected, elbowing him in the side with a leer. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting your boyfriend all week.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Will shot back tiredly, swatting her elbow away. “We’re just friends. _Friends._ You do know what that is, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t have friends. I have enemies and then I have Alana.” She threw her arms around him, tugging him down to whisper conspiratorially into his ear. “I bet you fifty bucks that if he’s not your boyfriend yet, he will be soon.” Letting go, she turned to head into the kitchen. “Now, where’s the food, I’m _starving._ ”

Will muttered grumpily under his breath as he followed after her. “Definitely no second helping of cake for you.”

“You’re not in charge of the food, Graham. Which is a good thing because I suspect you’d stick me with one plate only for the rest of the day,” she called back, immediately heading to the fridge, paying him no attention as she rummaged around for something to eat.

He never knew how to handle Bev whenever she got like this but he’d at least make an effort to not give into the temptation of childishly pulling on her hair. He had the feeling that Abigail wouldn’t approve and he _had_ promised to get along with everyone.

It almost made him wish that Dr. Hannibal and Homer would arrive soon.

_Almost._

+

“Hi Mr. Graham!” Homer grinned up at the man, a basket of treats in his arms. He looked around for Abigail, nearly jumping in excitement as he craned his head.

Will, noticing how distracted he now was, smiled at the boy and moved aside to let him through. “She’s in her room. She’s been there quite a while already, maybe you can finally get her to come out.”

With a smile he took the basket that the boy held up for him, chuckling when he raced past him and down into the hallway. Will set the basket down on a nearby table and he braced himself, taking a deep breath and looking around to make sure that Beverly was still in the kitchen before making his way outside where he assumed the doctor was. Sure enough, he was pulling out the food and Will hurried over to help.

The man gave him a small grateful smile before they hauled their load up to the house. Will’s heart was beating fast and he mentally chastised himself for his reaction in seeing Dr. Hannibal. He didn’t even want to think about what Beverly will say – he wanted to at least savor the last few seconds of any semblance of normality he could get for as long as he could.

“You look very nice.” It had been so casually that Will had almost not noticed the compliment but when it hit him, he flushed bright red. He glanced at the other man, catching the appreciative glance he threw him. His blush would definitely be noticeable now that he didn’t have any other possible way of hiding it.

“Um…thank you,” Will murmured shyly, before nudging the screen door open. “Also, thank you for the food. And the dress. And for just coming, honestly.” It had been great watching Abigail grow more excited the closer they got to her important day. He grudgingly had enough faith in Hannibal and Homer to not disappoint his daughter and it seemed that he had been right to place his trust in both of them. Not that he had had any doubts, anyway. Otherwise he wouldn’t have allowed this to happen at all.

“Thank you for inviting us. I realize that this is an invitation only event and I am honored that we were invited by Ms. Abigail herself.” The doctor sounded serious but Will could see the small corner of his lip tugged up into a smile and he couldn’t help but to return it with one of his own.

“You-“

“Finally!” And he had actually managed to forget about Beverly. It was impossible to do so now as she was marching up to them, eyes on Dr. Hannibal. She looked him up and down with calculating eyes before they landed on the food in his arms. Suddenly she was all smiles as she turned to him. “Allow me to take that,” was her polite offer and Will narrowed his eyes suspiciously as she practically took it from him, running off into the kitchen.

“That’s Beverly. There will be a more formal introduction later, I apologize for that,” he said, sighing at Beverly’s predictable reaction. Hopefully Beverly was as equally polite for the rest of the day. As it was, her attention had been diverted by food for now. It was later that he was worried about; she was unpredictable when she wanted to be.

“Mr. Lecter!” Will heard the distant sound of small feet pattering against the floor before he was met with the sight of Abigail beaming up at the other man, Homer standing beside her with an indulgent smile.

“Abigail, happy birthday,” Dr. Hannibal smiled down at her, eyes taking in the dress she was wearing.

“Thank you! And thank you for the dress! I really like it!” And as if to demonstrate just how true that statement was, she twirled around, her skirt moving along with her.

“I am glad that you like it, however, I cannot take all the credit. Homer lend a helping hand in choosing it; he was very adamant about sticking to what he thought you would like.” Dr. Hannibal glanced up at Will with a gleam in his eye and Will’s smile grew at the man’s need to lavish his son with subtle praise.

Even more so because the boy, being as quiet and bashful as he was, would not outright take any credit, however small or big it was. The small blush blooming upon the boy’s round cheeks was enough to show that he was pleased with the acknowledgement.

Abigail turned to Homer and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you, Homer.” She whispered something indiscernible into his ear and they erupted in a fit of giggles before making their escape once again, the dogs eagerly following behind them.

With no more distractions in the way, there was nothing Will could do to prolong the inevitable and finally, they both walked into the kitchen to put away the rest of the food. Beverly was standing by the food she had taken from him, a plate already in hand though she at least had had the sense to not dig in already. Once she spotted them, she put the plate down and straightened up, tossing her hair back and eyes narrowing when they zeroed in on the doctor.

“You must be Dr. Lecter. I’ve heard many things about you.” Beverly held out a hand, lips pressed into a firm line and Will refrained the urge to groan at her usual ‘no –bullshit’ expression.

“And you must be Ms. Katz. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Abigail has told me many great things about you,” he said as he took her hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Good. So you already know.”

Will furrowed his brow at the comment, slightly confused by the sudden unexpected turn the conversation had taken though it didn’t appear as if the doctor shared the same sentiment. In fact, he looked unsurprised when Beverly’s hold on his hand tightened as she studied him even more closely.

“Indeed I do.”

And now Will had crossed the line from slightly to completely confused. There was tension in the air, thick enough that Will now found it suffocating and there was a desperate need to change the subject before things got any worse. Before he could actually open his mouth to say anything though, Beverly suddenly grinned, letting go of the hand she had still been gripping tightly.

“Great! Let’s get this party started then.” And with that, she hip checked Will as she made her way out to retrieve the kids, probably eager to introduce herself to Homer as well.

He felt as if he had just missed something very important and Will didn’t like being left in the dark – it actually made him very unpleasant to be around when people tried hiding things from him. “What was that?” he asked, looking to Dr. Hannibal for an explanation. However, he got none, only a smile. Will didn’t even flinch when an arm casually wrapped around his shoulders.

“Nothing of importance, dear William,” was murmured into his ear as he was carefully led out of the kitchen.

+

“You know, I see the way you look at him.” Hannibal turned to look at the woman now standing beside him. She had a glass of punch in hand and she took an unhurried sip. “He might not notice it – and let’s be honest, Will isn’t exactly the brightest person when it comes to things like this – but even a blind person would notice.”

“Is that so.” He turned slightly to keep Will in his line of sight, making sure that he had not noticed their interaction and found it necessary to intervene just yet. The man was still fidgeting with the plates, dogs nudging at his legs as they tried catching a peek of the food on the table. “And what is it that you have noticed?”

“That you care about him. You care about Abigail too but it’s very obvious that it’s definitely not the same thing.” She gave an undignified snort and even Hannibal found himself smiling, finding Ms. Katz’s personality to be somewhat refreshing.

“Am I truly that transparent?” he wondered out loud. It wasn’t as if he had really been trying to hide his growing attachment to Will; that had never been his intention. Anyone else would have noticed by now. It was difficult to court someone who had no idea they was being courted. Hannibal had to be careful as he was dealing with not just one person, but two and one wrong move would not only reflect badly upon him but on Homer as well.

“No. Will is just truly that oblivious.” Hannibal could not really argue with that either.  Admittedly, it was frustrating but he would not have settled for Will had he been hoping for an easy conquest. This was more than a mere conquest and he hoped soon that he’d be able to convince Will of the same.

“He is,” he said, unable to keep the fondness out of his tone, his eyes following Will as he piled food onto the plates haphazardly.

“I didn’t come here for pleasant chatter though.” There was a hard edge to her voice and that caused him to glance at her admirably, noting the steely glint in her eyes. “I’ve seen some of the most heinous crime scenes; I hunt down serial killers for a living. Believe me when I say that if you hurt them, either of them, I will unleash the extent of my knowledge upon you without any regrets.”

Hannibal was amused but he knew that it would be inappropriate of him to express it in any way, especially because he knew that this was too serious of a situation. If he was going to get any closer to the Grahams, he’d have to convince the other people important to them that his intentions were not anything less than sincere. “That is to be expected.”

It was reassuring that the Graham family had people that cared about them and would do anything to protect them. Unknowingly, they inspired a fierce devotion in the people closest to them. He had already made his decision of protecting them with his life. Although preferably, it would sooner be at the cost of someone else’s life than his own or Homer’s.

Ms. Katz nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response, pasting on a pleasant smile when they finally caught Will’s attention. “It looks like he could use some help.” She nodded and elbowed him gently, turning on her heel to refill her glass of punch. Hannibal watched her leave for a moment before approaching the now suspicious Will, offering his help with a smile.

Unsurprisingly, he took it, Hannibal’s conversation with Ms. Katz remaining unmentioned, much more focused on the task of feeding the children who had ventured out of Abigail’s room and were now whining about their hunger.

+

“This is yummy,” Abigail whispered to Homer, glancing at Auntie Katz who was eating with gusto.

“I know,” was his proud reply, stabbing a piece of chicken before bringing it up to his mouth.

“Eat your tomatoes,” she said absentmindedly, turning her gaze to her daddy and Mr. Lecter who were quietly eating their own food. She heard grumbling beside her as Homer reluctantly ate his tomatoes. There was a moment of silence save for the sound of utensils scraping against plates.

“Should we do it now?” Homer asked, shifting in his seat slightly. He had one tomato slice left and Buster was looking at him pleadingly. When he tried picking it up the slice with his fork, it fell to the floor and with a fake dismayed frown, he looked down as Buster eagerly ate it. His lip twitched up into a small smirk as he proceeded to eat the rest of his chicken.

“No. Not right now. Later.” Abigail was still looking at her daddy and Mr. Lecter thoughtfully.

Not yet.

But soon.

+

The rest of the afternoon was spent in blissful relaxation. The Lecters had brought pastries along with the food and there had also been cake. As soon as she took the first bite, Abigail squealed happily, praising them for having gone through the trouble of making her so much delicious food for her birthday.

Today had gone off well so far and Abigail was happier than ever at seeing her family interact, ecstatic with her aunt’s immediate acceptance of Homer and her insistence at including him in their games. Homer’s initial shyness was to be expected but he had quickly warmed up to auntie Bev. She was even getting along with Mr. Lecter and she couldn’t have asked for more.

It truly was the best birthday ever and the day wasn’t even over just yet. Abigail very much looked forward to putting her plans into motion later. Homer was just as excited as she was and they constantly made changes to the plan but eventually, settled on the one that seemed the easiest to achieve. She was counting on this being her lucky day, hoped that everything would turn out the way she wanted it to.

 _That_ would truly be the best gift she could ever receive. She wanted this desperately, wanted them to move forward and take that final step. There would be no dancing around, not anymore. It wasn’t as if she was tired of being with her daddy but he was lonely and honestly, so was she. She was ready to make their family even bigger.

They only had to wait for the perfect opportunity but it was getting darker and darker out and they saw no chance of it happening tonight at this rate, not when the grownups were too busy talking to each other. Daddy and Mr. Lecter needed to alone together and they just didn’t know how they could manage to make it happen.

Then when Auntie Katz pulled them aside, saying her goodbyes, she also wished them good luck, giving them hugs and departing with a knowing wink.  

They almost couldn’t believe it.

It was time

 _It was time_.

And as daddy and Mr. Lecter stepped outside to walk her auntie to her car, they finally saw their chance.

And they started preparing.

+

Abigail giggled softly as she peeked out, spotting her daddy and Mr. Lecter talking on the front porch, the light casting a golden glow on them. They were close, standing only a few inches away from each other and they seemed to be deep in discussion, not paying any attention to anything else around them.

Auntie Katz was long gone and the two men seemed to have stayed outside to continue on with their conversation. Abigail had been afraid that they wouldn’t catch them in time but they actually seemed too caught up in what the other was saying.

Which was a good thing because it gave Abigail and Homer the opportunity to sneak out, tugging out Roger, their English Mastiff along with them. He huffed tiredly but let them lead him until they stopped from beside the porch, hidden by the shadows of the night. Abigail raised a brow at Homer and he nodded, his lips pulled up into a grin.

“I put it in his pocket,” he whispered to her, his eyes twinkling in the dark. She gave him a thumbs-up of approval and patted Roger on the head. He was the newest addition to their canine family and daddy hadn’t had the chance to train him yet. This was why he was _perfect_ for their plan.

“Okay, Roger. He’s got a treat in pocket.” Abigail pointed at her daddy and at the word ‘treat’, Roger perked up, tail wagging. 

“Can you please go get the treat, Roger?” she asked kindly and before she could say anything else, the English Mastiff was gone, barreling around the corner of the house and up the porch.

Abigail and Homer watched eagerly as the dog jumped onto her daddy’s back, pushing him straight into Mr. Lecter's arms. They couldn’t really see their faces from here but they didn’t need to as the force against daddy’s back not only managed to push him further into the other man’s arms but also managed to push their faces into each other’s.

It was like when she played with her dollies and at times, out of curiosity, she’d mash their faces together mimicking a kiss.

Except that now it was actually happening and the feeling was much more satisfying than when she did it to her dollies.

Of course the moment didn’t last very long as Roger nosed around daddy’s jacket, pulling out the treat and running off with his prize. His considerable weight now gone, daddy was able to pull back and even in the dark, she could see that he was blushing brightly, looking completely mortified.

Abigail giggled quietly, Homer shaking with the force of holding back his own amazed laughter. Her daddy was unfortunately pulling away, mouth opening to fire apologies and excuses most likely.

Just as they were about to turn away, satisfied with this for now – they hadn’t expected a full confession tonight, anyway - they caught movement out of the corner of their eye, Mr. Lecter pulling her daddy closer. With wide eyes and slack jaws, they watched as he leaned in to catch her daddy’s lips with his own.

Her daddy was weakly pushing at the other man’s chest but his efforts stopped as he relaxed and finally gave in.

Abigail scrunched up her nose, turning to Homer. “Ew,” she mumbled, fake gagging in disgust. Despite her outward reaction, she couldn’t deny that she was more than pleased. This had been more than they had ever _expected._ Homer seemed to agree with her and they both smiled widely at each other, racing back around the house and slipping back in through the back door.

She’d give them some time together before they tried interrupting although if they were still doing… _that_ then Abigail and Homer just would have to entertain themselves for a while longer.

It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice, after all, this had been the plan all along and while she had been unsure of it at first, trying to play it off the best she could, there was nothing better than the satisfaction of a good job done. Before exiting the kitchen, Abigail reached for another cookie and took another one for Homer.

And together, they walked back to her room, reveling in the future changes in their lives that were still yet to come.

Abigail found that she really liked the idea of being able to call Mr. Lecter ‘papa’ out loud, soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://bxd-wolf.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
